Ten
by Ranma E
Summary: Ranma Saotome is the sole living heir to the Saotome school of martial arts. Living the life of a nomad, she wanders from town to town; seeking answers to questions she does not know how to ask, wielding a power she cannot fully understand.
1. Birthright

= = = =  
  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
  
= = = =  
  
The ground disappeared from beneath   
And all that was solid is air   
I tumbled end over end into my nature   
And darkness appeared from below   
Carrying voices of query, voices of theory   
Dark voices, near me   
All around and reason is drowned   
By the sound of clamour   
The pound of the hammer   
Is confusion, illusion   
Plunged into shadows and mist   
I catch my breath, frightened   
But I will not face death still unenlightened  
  
~ Salva Mea ~  
Faithless  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
"Birthright"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Concentration. Focus. Control.  
  
Akane's brow furrowed as she wobbled, keeping an unsteady balance on the  
bar. The voices of her classmates floated effortlessly past her, seeming  
to come from a thousand miles away. Despite the crowd, Akane felt utterly  
alone.  
  
"I mustn't fall ... I mustn't fall ...."  
  
She swallowed, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart, which filled her  
ears in a deafening rumble. She squinted her eyes, trying to find her   
focus amid the emptiness she found around her. A gust of wind raked   
across her back, her skin prickling with goosebumps as an involuntary   
shudder coursed down her spine.  
  
"I mustn't fall ...."  
  
She was not entirely sure why she was so nervous. All she needed to do was  
launch herself into a string of three backflips, then a final somersault to  
dismount. Admittedly she wasn't the best gymnast in the school, but the   
task at hand was not out of her reach.  
  
Perhaps it was the rows upon rows of fellow Furinkan students watching her  
expectantly, waiting for her to make her move. The bar and other gym   
equipment were outside rather than in the gym for the exhibition, and she  
could feel the whole school waiting for her to move. Whatever the cause,   
the nervous sweat that covered her body as a result did not make her feel   
any better about staying on the bar.  
  
She struggled, in her desperation, to find something to occupy her mind; to  
remember just why she had decided to join the gymnastics team. She would   
much rather be at home training with her father. Her father taught her   
well about concentration, focus and control. He made her listen carefully   
to his lessons on stance and power.   
  
He had often chastised her for her lack of grace and subtlety. Her  
approach to the martial arts relied on pure power, he always said to her.  
His lectures would invariably end with an exercise in grace and poise.  
  
"Don't sacrifice agility and speed for the sake of strength and power," he  
had often said. "You have to keep these things in balance."  
  
Sighing, she closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate. There was  
no turning back. The voices around her fading into silence, she steeled  
herself for a moment, and launched herself backwards.  
  
It was an odd sensation that greeted her - opening her eyes, she found  
herself hanging weightless, her view one of the bright blue sky. A bird  
hung motionless in the air above her, its wings held open in mid-flap. A  
strange kind of calm rushed through her body, her muscles relaxing as she  
felt herself drifting endlessly through a single moment.  
  
She could do this. All her doubts were washed away in an instant of  
revelation. She knew exactly what to do.  
  
The sky rolled away from her, replaced by the horizon. She noticed the  
blurred faces of her friends Yuka and Sayuri in the distance, offset   
against the bar, which appeared sharply in focus. She felt herself   
tilting backwards and extended her hands upward, ready to catch the bar  
as it spun toward her head.  
  
It was at that moment that she felt it. She was unsure what it was at  
first; it seemed like two hot needles had been jammed into her   
shoulderblades. She tried to ignore the feeling, but it burned itself  
into her brain and she found herself unable to think of anything else.  
  
She could feel herself ... being watched?  
  
It was as though someone was staring at her, standing right behind her,   
catching her in a private, secret moment. She felt her face flush with   
embarrassment as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her body. She   
could not fathom why, but she felt profoundly unsettled. A dark paranoia  
seized her mind, draining away all other thoughts.  
  
A hot flash of fear surged through her and she found herself twisting to  
face the unknown threat, to try and catch a glimpse of the eyes behind her  
back.  
  
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the feeling vanished, leaving Akane  
silently alone for the single moment before her shoulder crashed into  
the bar, sending her tumbling down to the mat below.  
  
* * *  
  
Drifting - falling - impact.  
  
Akane awoke slowly, a fuzzy haze hanging over her eyes and seeming  
reluctant to leave. Vague memories of grassblades and vomit filled her  
mind for a moment then faded, leaving a faint aftertaste of nausea behind.  
She tried to sit up, but a searing pain lanced through her shoulder,  
forcing her back down. She fell back onto her pillow, swimming in  
dizziness and gripped the blanket, trying to stop the ceiling from  
spinning quite so fast.  
  
A few moments passed, and the nausea and dizziness faded. Once sure she  
was not going to vomit, Akane dared to breathe again.   
  
Great. Just ... great, she thought, staring at the sterile, white  
ceiling. She must have made a complete fool of herself, falling off the  
bar like she did, in front of the whole school.  
  
How embarrassing.  
  
She turned her head and looked out through the large window near her bed.  
It was a sunny day outside, which meant she had not been unconscious for  
long. That, or she had been unconscious for the whole night. She wasn't  
sure, so she tried to put it out of her mind.  
  
The thought suddenly crossed her mind that she was not in her bedroom. A  
cold flash ran through her body as her addled mind tried to calculate the  
implications of this fact. If she was not in her own bed, she was probably  
in a hospital bed. If she was in a hospital bed, she was probably   
seriously hurt.   
  
If she was seriously hurt, she might not be able to compete in the  
tournament.   
  
She brought one hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, letting out a  
long sigh. She would not get angry. She would not get angry.  
  
Seeking a distraction, she turned her head as far as her angrily protesting  
shoulder would allow, and tried to take in her surroundings. There was an  
abundance of white - on the walls, the ceilings, the floor - and a faint  
pine scent of disinfectant hung in the air. Ever since breaking a leg as a  
child, Akane had disliked hospitals. Being in a hospital meant being in  
pain, and this time was no exception.  
  
A small table stood beside the bed, with a small lamp on it. A curtain  
lay beyond that, pulled back to show the next bed was empty. Faint voices  
caught her ears, and everpresent footsteps echoed up and down the hallway  
outside her room.  
  
She wondered idly if her father knew she was here. Probably not, she  
reasoned, or he would be sitting by the bed already.  
  
Letting out a sigh, she looked back up at the ceiling, and -- there it was  
again. Glancing back over at the door nervously, Akane once again felt a   
the dark paranoia take her.   
  
The uneasiness filled her to the core; she knew she was being watched.  
  
A darkness appeared, visible in the corner of her eye, and Akane jerked her  
head to look at it. Her shoulder protested loudly, but she ignored the   
pain, her eyes coming to rest on a person standing in front of the window.  
  
"Who are you?" Akane asked, squinting to make out details. The figure  
stepped closer, revealing the face of a young girl. It was a soft face,  
despite a long scar that ran down from one eye, across the cheek, and  
halfway down the neck. Two blue eyes, piercing in their intensity,   
stared back at her from beneath bright red hair.  
  
The girl was shrouded in a thick black cloak that obscured her entire  
body. Frigid air seemed to escape from beneath the black fabric and  
brought a chill to the room, sending a painful shiver down Akane's spine.  
Akane felt the temperature in the room drop sharply, and saw her breath   
condense upon the chilled air as she let out a shaky breath.  
  
"Who are you?" she repeated, watching the girl who was staring so intently  
at her.  
  
"You've dislocated your shoulder," the girl said at length. "The doctors  
have re-set it, but you're still in pain."  
  
"How do you--" Akane began, but stopped as she saw the girl step toward  
her. "What are you doing ...?"  
  
The girl raised an arm, a small hand emerging from the cloak and moving  
toward Akane's shoulder. It drew near Akane's arm, and Akane felt coldness  
spread through her.  
  
Akane felt a tingling in her fingers as her arm went numb. She tried to  
move, to stop this girl from doing whatever she was doing, but she found  
she could not. Silent and motionless, she had little choice but to watch  
the girl take hold of her shoulder and squeeze it.  
  
A wave of tiredness overcame Akane as she felt an incredible pleasure,  
a sensual warmth that radiated from her shoulder even as the rest of her  
body turned cold. She looked up at the girl, trying to fathom her intent,  
but could see only a gentle smile.  
  
Her eyes closed, Akane curled her toes as a whisper of exquisite pleasure  
swam through her body, washing away pain and leaving blissful relaxation  
in its wake.   
  
"You may feel a little weak," the girl's voice floated into her mind,  
muffled as if spoken with a mouth full of cotton wool. "But your pain  
is gone. Get some rest.  
  
"After you wake up, your father will arrive to take you home. Don't tell  
him about me; I'll find you tonight and answer your questions."  
  
Akane tried to force herself awake, to reach out and grab this girl, to  
make her explain what she had done, and who she was, but she could not  
will herself to move. Her eyelids stayed closed, as if a great weight  
were holding them down.  
  
"You want to know who I am, I know," came the girl's voice, echoing through  
Akane's consciousness. "My name is Ranma, and I'm here to protect you.   
Get some sleep."  
  
* * *  
  
Little was said by father or daughter as they made their way back from the  
hospital.   
  
Akane had awoken a few hours later and, just as Ranma had said, Soun   
arrived shortly afterwards. He was worried sick, of course, but Akane's   
reassurance that she was fine calmed him down.  
  
What interested Akane was the fact that she wasn't just saying she was fine  
for her father's sake - she genuinely felt fine. Better than she had felt  
for a while, in fact.   
  
She was not sure whether she had dreamed about her visitor, but the fact  
remained that her shoulder did not hurt at all. The doctor had been most  
surprised by this fact, apparently, when he checked on her. She could not   
explain it to him any more than she could to herself.  
  
All she knew was, she felt great, and that she should not tell her father   
about it, as much as she wanted to.  
  
The sun cast a lazy orange hue across the path as they walked, their  
shadows stretching out beside them across the path and partway up the wall  
on the far side. Its rays infused all they touched with a gentle warmth,  
holding off for a few minutes more the chill of the night to come.  
  
"I'll have to make some tea," said Soun as they eventually neared the  
Tendo dojo. "I don't know about you, but I'd love a nice warm drink."  
  
"Thanks, Dad," Akane smiled at him as he opened the front door for her.  
"I could have done that myself, you know."  
  
"I don't want you straining yourself, Akane. You're still my little girl,  
remember."  
  
"I'll be straining myself in the tournament, Dad," Akane noted, smiling. "I  
don't think you'll be taking care of that for me, will you?"  
  
"You're still entering?" Soun asked, surprised, as he closed the door  
behind them.  
  
"Of course, Daddy. I'm not going to let something like this stop me."  
  
"I just thought, with your injury and all ...."  
  
"I know how much this tournament means to you, Daddy," Akane said, turning  
to look at him, "and you know how much it means to me. I'll be there, and  
I'll prove how good our dojo really is."  
  
Soun smiled at her, and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "You make  
your father proud, Akane. I -- oh! I'm sorry, your shoulder--"  
  
"It's fine, Daddy," Akane replied. "It doesn't hurt at all."  
  
"You should go and have a bath," Soun suggested. "The heat will be good  
for your shoulder."  
  
Akane smiled at Soun and nodded, deciding to cease her protests and let her  
father take care of her.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane let out a deep breath as she slowly sank her body into the steaming  
water of the bath.   
  
"Ahhhh-ahhhh-ahhhhh ...."  
  
She felt the water rise around her, enveloping her in a soothing warmth  
that radiated throughout her body, relaxing her muscles almost immediately.  
She closed her eyes as she felt the warmth rise across her chest, slowly  
lowering herself until she was at last sitting within the bath, the water  
lapping gently at the base of her neck as it rippled from her entry.  
  
Opening her eyes again she looked down at the water. She could see her  
own indistinct form refracted by the surface of the water, through the  
thin wisps of steam that drifted slowly upwards from it. Clutching her  
arms together beneath her breasts, she tried to capture and hold as much  
warmth as she could. She'd had enough of the cold for one day.  
  
She took a deep breath of the moist, humid air around her and tried to  
relax. The warmth felt good and she was determined to enjoy it. It had  
been a long and confusing day.  
  
She was unsure why she had made such a bad mistake during her flip; she  
vaguely recalled a dark feeling of panic inside herself, but could not  
for the life of her fathom what it was.  
  
She had felt a similar sensation in the hospital, and again she did not   
understand it. She knew that second time, however, it was somehow related  
to her visitor. Her thoughts wandered back to the girl in black.  
  
Did she really have a visitor, or was it just a dream? She seemed like a   
strange person, this cloaked girl, this -- what was her name?  
  
"Ranma," she whispered to herself. "What an unusual name ...."  
  
The more she thought about it, the stranger her memory of the girl became.  
This girl, pale within a dark cloak, sharp blue eyes framed by fiery red  
hair, but with hands that carried a touch like ice - she seemed unreal,   
like some vision from beyond, a dream conjured by a semiconscious mind.  
  
The girl asked not to be mentioned, and Akane had honoured that request.  
Why?   
  
Probably so her father would not think her insane, she reasoned. Still,  
if this girl really was there, Akane owed her a debt of gratitude.  
  
She reached up and rubbed her shoulder gently. It amazed her still to  
feel no pain at all. The pain was like a thousand needles stabbed into  
her arm when she was at the hospital -- but now, it was gone. Surely,  
that could not have been coincidence.   
  
Thinking back, she remembered the icy chill that Ranma's very presence  
had brought to the room. It seemed that the girl sucked the warmth from  
the bed and replaced it with a sheet of ice. The hair on Akane's neck  
stood up from the memory alone.  
  
Akane blinked, as she realised it was not just the memory; a shiver ran  
through her as she became aware of the fact that she was freezing cold.  
She ran her hands up and down her arms, fingers sliding against goosebumped  
skin as she tried to infuse some warmth into herself.   
  
A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw in front of her, where a moment  
ago there had been nothing, the girl from the hospital room. She jumped  
to her feet and instinctively covered herself with her arms, her shivering  
forgotten.  
  
The girl pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing her face once more.  
  
"I'm sorry about this, Akane," she spoke softly. "It was the only way to  
talk to you alone."  
  
"How did you ...?"  
  
"Get in?" Ranma finished, folding her arms in front of herself. "It's not  
hard to hide myself. Sit down, don't be embarrassed."  
  
Akane nodded dumbly, and half sat, half fell back down into the water. She  
felt an instinctive urge to defend herself, but somehow realized she did  
not need to.   
  
"How do you know my name?"  
  
"I know a lot about you," Ranma answered, looking down at Akane. "You are  
Akane Tendo, sole heir to the Tendo school of Anything-Goes Martial Arts.  
You are sixteen, an only child. Your mother died twelve years ago, and   
your father raised you alone, teaching you the family art so that you   
would carry on after he was gone."  
  
Akane swallowed, a nervous sweat forming on her forehead. How on Earth  
did this girl know these things?   
  
"That's all true," Akane agreed, eyebrows raised, "but that's not what I  
asked."  
  
"No, it's not," Ranma admitted with a sigh. "I have a lot to tell you,  
and I don't have a lot of time. In a few moments your father is going  
to come in and tell you to go and talk to him, and I don't plan on being  
around when that happens. So, I'll try to be brief."  
  
"Okay," said Akane, not bothering to ask how Ranma knew that.  
  
"I've been watching over you for a few days now, Akane," Ranma continued.  
"I know what I know from watching you and those around you."  
  
"Why? What do you want from me?"  
  
"I don't want anything from you," Ranma replied with a sigh. She furrowed  
her brow, deep in thought. "Damn it, I wish I had more time.  
  
"I owe your family a great deal," she continued after a moment's thought,  
"and I have a duty to perform. You're in danger, Akane, and it's my job to  
protect you from that danger."  
  
"Danger? What danger?"  
  
"It's a long story, and I don't have time now. There's so much I want to  
tell you - but, now I have the chance, I can't think how to begin. I have  
to go, but I'll meet you tomorrow, in your dojo. Perhaps it would be   
easier to explain if ....  
  
"Yes," Ranma added after a moment. "Bring Soun, too. Tell him I said   
hello."  
  
"But--" Akane tried, only to be interrupted as Ranma suddenly vanished.   
She blinked in surprise, her eyes flitting from the edge of the bath to the  
window and back. The window was still closed, and the door had not opened.  
Where did Ranma go?  
  
A thin haze of steam rose up across her view, and Akane realized that  
once again, the room was warm. Clenching and unclenching her fists as  
sensation returned to her fingers, Akane heard a knocking behind her.  
  
"Akane?" came her father's voice through the door.  
  
"Yes?" Akane replied, her eyes still fixed on the spot Ranma had stood in.  
What on Earth was going on? Who was this girl?  
  
"Akane, please come to the table," Soun said, opening the door just enough  
to speak through it. "I've made a nice warm drink for you, and I would   
like to hear what happened today."  
  
"Okay, I'm on my way," Akane replied.   
  
"Thank you," Soun said, and the door closed.   
  
She stared for several moments, her eyes fixed on that one spot. There   
had to be some explanation for all of this.  
  
"Ranma," she whispered, again. "Such an unusual name ...."  
  
* * *  
  
"So," Soun said, as he sipped his second cup of tea. "What do you   
remember?"  
  
"Not a lot," admitted Akane. "I was distracted, and I lost my focus."  
She sighed softly. Her father was in teaching mode, and obviously thought  
a lecture was what she needed.  
  
"And you ended up nearly injuring yourself," Soun added, with a solemn  
nod. He fixed his eyes on the top of his teacup, and spoke without   
looking up. "You made a very simple mistake. What did you do wrong?"  
  
"I shouldn't have been distracted," Akane answered, staring at her own tea.  
  
"Correct," Soun agreed, nodding. "You cannot afford to lose focus, Akane.  
Focus and mental discipline are of the upmost importance."  
  
Akane stared into her tea, letting the lecture her father had begun wash  
over her. She had heard these words before, many times, and she probably  
would hear them many times more. She felt a flare of anger for a moment;  
she would not have lost her focus if it wasn't for ....  
  
"Dad," she spoke suddenly, interrupting him.  
  
He fixed her with an irritated glare. "I did not raise my child to  
interrupt her father, or her teacher."  
  
"I'm sorry," Akane apologised, looking up at him. "But I have to tell you.  
Something happened while I was on the bar. It was ... I couldn't stop   
myself-"  
  
"What was it?" Soun asked, curious.  
  
Akane paused for a moment, choosing her words.  
  
"Does the name 'Ranma' mean anything to you?"  
  
"Ranma?" Soun looked at her, surprise flashing through his eyes for just a  
moment.   
  
"Hrmm," he rumbled thoughtfully, taking another sip of his tea. "I see.  
She's talked to you, then?"  
  
"Yes," Akane replied, utterly confused. "You know her?"  
  
"Far too well," Soun admitted with a sigh. "Far too well."  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"An ... acquaintance of the family. If she's here, that means ...."  
  
Akane looked at her father as he trailed off into silence. The look on  
his face was a combination of deep thought and concern. She had seen  
that look before, whenever he watched her compete in a tournament. He  
kept a keen eye on her during her competitions, and she felt herself  
stiffen under his gaze.  
  
She waited for him to speak, but he remained silent. Several moments  
passed before she opened her mouth again.  
  
"She wants you to come with me to the dojo tomorrow."  
  
He nodded, another thoughtful rumble his only response. He did not look  
surprised in the least. His expression seemed haunted.  
  
"What does this all mean? Everyone seems to know what's happening except  
me!"  
  
"Akane," Soun sighed, placing his cup on the table. "If Ranma is here,  
she can explain everything. It is ... not my place, child."  
  
"I'm not a child, Daddy," Akane replied, growing irritated. "You know  
that."  
  
"I do know that," he lamented, nodding glumly. "That, my dear daughter, is  
the problem."  
  
"I don't understand ...."  
  
"You will, Akane," Soun replied sadly. "You'll soon understand all too  
well. Tomorrow, we will go and talk with Ranma."  
  
"All right," Akane said with a nod, glad to finally be getting somewhere.  
  
"But tonight," Soun continued, reaching over to grasp at Akane's hand,  
"you will kiss your Dad goodnight, you will go to bed, and you will get  
a good night's sleep."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No buts, Akane," Soun interrupted, looking at her without anger or   
irritation. "No buts, tonight."  
  
Akane looked down at her father's hand, then back up at his face.   
Wrinkles appeared where before there had been none, and her father  
seemed to have aged a decade in a moment. She placed her other hand  
atop his.   
  
"All right," she agreed. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek,  
and stood. Waiting until tomorrow would not hurt. Turning, she left the  
room and walked up the stairs, leaving her father alone with his thoughts.  
  
"Not my Akane," Soun whispered, a tear running down his cheek. "Please,  
not my little girl."  
  
Neither father nor daughter slept very well that night.  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Wait, Akane," Soun called, pulling his daughter back. "Let me go first."  
  
Akane looked back at her father then nodded, stepping aside to let him  
take the lead. He stepped up to the doors of the dojo and stood before  
them for a moment, motionless, before eventually sliding them open and  
stepping inside.  
  
The dojo was cold inside, far colder than outside, and Soun's breath   
changed to mist upon the air. He stepped cautiously, looking left and   
right at each step. Akane followed him in, held back by his arm held   
across her shoulders.  
  
"Stay behind me," he instructed.   
  
She nodded, silently, her body tensing behind her father. She could tell  
he was treading carefully and quietly; she found herself doing the same   
instinctively. Years of training with her father had taught her to pay  
close attention to his body language.  
  
Pale morning sunlight filtered weakly in through the rice-paper doors on   
the other side of the dojo, but they did little to warm the wooden floor   
they illuminated. Akane felt as though she were walking on ice.  
  
"It's too cold," Akane commented, looking around herself. Condensation  
had formed along the blade of a sword that hung from the wall. Droplets  
of water dripped irregularly to the floor, landing in a small puddle  
that had formed below. The quiet, watery sound disturbed the silence,  
only adding to Akane's nervousness.  
  
"Yes," agreed Soun. He glanced over at the dojo shrine and felt his  
resolve firming. He stopped in place, near the centre of the dojo,  
and spun around. "Show yourself, Ranma!"  
  
Akane jumped a little at his sudden shout, and whirled around toward the  
door they had entered through. Standing before it was Ranma, shrouded  
completely in black.   
  
Ranma stepped forward into the dojo, closing the doors behind her. She  
turned to face the shrine and bowed.  
  
"You have no right to bow to that shrine!" Soun bellowed, a cloud of  
breath floating up from his mouth at his outburst. "You have no right  
to be in this dojo!"  
  
Akane stared at her father, shocked at his outburst. She had never, in  
her entire life, heard such from her father. She glanced over at Ranma,  
to see her reaction.  
  
Ranma, for her part, lowered herself slowly to one knee, and pulled back  
the hood of her cloak. Hair spilling down over her face, she looked up  
long enough speak, "I'm sorry. I meant no offense."  
  
"It's far too late for that," Soun fumed, watching as Ranma again lowered  
her gaze to the floor.  
  
"My life is in your hands; take it if you will," Ranma replied, lowering  
her head further to expose her neck.   
  
"Empty words," snorted Soun. "You know as well as I do that they mean  
nothing."  
  
"The spirit is willing," said Ranma, softly, "but the flesh is weak."  
  
Silence filled the dojo for a moment as Soun chose his words. Ranma  
raised her head to match Soun's stare with her own.  
  
Akane could feel a thousand questions bustling to escape from her throat,  
but none dared to escape through her lips. She looked at her father, then  
to Ranma, wondering who would end the standoff.  
  
"Why have you returned?" Soun asked, breaking the impasse at last.  
  
"To warn you," Ranma replied.  
  
"Of what?" Soun asked, already knowing the answer. He sighed, and turned  
away. "Take off that damn cloak before you answer, it's freezing in here."  
  
"As you wish," Ranma replied, nodding slightly, and reached up to unfasten  
the cloak. As she raised herself to stand, it came loose around her neck  
and flowed off her body, pooling in a black puddle of fabric near her feet.  
Almost immediately, the warmth seemed to return to the room.  
  
Akane watched the cloak with fascination for a moment, before turning her  
eyes toward Ranma, for the first time getting a glimpse of what lay  
hidden beneath the cloak.  
  
The first thing Akane noticed was a large katana strapped tightly across  
Ranma's back. She swallowed, wondering how such a large sword was  
concealed so completely beneath the cloak.  
  
Ranma stood a little shorter than Akane. A traditional Chinese shirt of  
red silk that seemed several sizes too big was draped over her body, the  
sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing well-toned forearms. She  
reached back and slid the strap holding the sword to her over her head,  
and lowered the sword to the ground, resting it upon the cloak.  
  
Akane noticed a long, turquoise dragon tattoo that ran the length of   
Ranma's left forearm and for a moment wondered where a girl as young as   
Ranma would find a tattoo artist willing to tattoo her. The thought   
passed as quickly as it had arrived.  
  
As well as the shirt, Ranma wore simple silk pants but no shoes. Her feet,  
like the rest of her body, were pale and delicate in appearance, while at  
the same time issuing a feeling of sturdiness.  
  
Akane noticed the stability of Ranma's posture, the quiet grace with which   
she moved, and wondered for an instant how well this girl could fight. She  
felt a sudden desire to spar with her and find out.  
  
Ranma looked over at Akane, her eyes suggesting that she knew just what   
Akane was thinking. A small smile played over her lips, and Akane found  
herself matching it.  
  
Atop Ranma's head lay a thick tangle of cherry-red hair that dangled down   
to her waist in a thick ponytail. It was matted and dirty, but Akane was  
nonetheless stunned by the radiant colour that shone from beneath the  
filth.  
  
Ranma was indeed very dirty, covered with dried-on mud and dust. Her eyes,   
those vibrant orbs of blue and white, seemed bright compared to the skin of   
her face which was caked in dust.  
  
Akane wondered what sort of girl would have so little regard for personal  
hygiene. She remembered suddenly that Ranma's eyes were on her, and she   
realised Ranma had noticed her staring. She flushed and looked away.  
  
"Well?" Soun prompted.  
  
"Well what?" asked Ranma, her attention being turned away from Akane.  
  
"What did you come to warn us of?"  
  
"Hunters," Ranma answered the question as if it were obvious. "They know   
about the Tendo heir, and they are looking for her."  
  
"Hunters?" asked Akane. Her question was ignored.  
  
"How did they find out?" Soun queried, beginning to pace back and forth.  
The worry on his face and in his stride was obvious.  
  
Akane looked closely at her father for the first time since Ranma had  
appeared and noticed that none of his tension or nervousness had left him.  
She swallowed nervously - she had not seen her father looking so  
intimidated before. It frightened her somewhat to see her father - the  
man who was normally a pillar of strength in her life - looking so  
unnerved. She felt herself wanting to help but was unsure of what to do.  
  
"I don't know," Ranma answered. "Their techniques are more sophisticated  
these days, I don't understand half of the stuff they use to track me."  
  
"If you know they're tracking you," Soun said, turning to face Ranma again,  
"why on Earth did you come here? Are you trying to lead them to Akane?"  
  
"Lead WHO to me?" Akane tried, growing increasingly annoyed at being left  
out of a conversation that obviously concerned her.  
  
"I had no choice," Ranma replied. "Even if I stayed away, they would find   
her. She stands a far better chance with me than without me."  
  
Soun snorted. "History suggests otherwise."  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU BOTH TALKING ABOUT?!" Akane bellowed, frustration in her   
voice. She had had just about enough of being ignored.  
  
Soun sighed. "Tell her who you are."  
  
Ranma turned to face Akane directly and bowed formally.   
  
"I am Ranma Saotome," she said, still bowing, "of the Saotome clan."  
  
"Saotome clan?" Akane asked, bewildered.  
  
"For nearly nine hundred years now, your family and mine have shared a  
common enemy. We don't know who they are, but they hunt us without mercy.  
I don't know how, but they've found out about you. I must take you from  
this place before they find you."  
  
"You have GOT to be kidding," Akane replied, flatly. "Who do you think  
you are?"  
  
"I know it sounds strange, Akane," Ranma replied. "We don't have a lot  
of time. We must go far from here. You and your family are in danger  
as long as you stay here. You will not be able to stand up to these  
people."  
  
"I can't leave!" Akane replied, angrily. "I've got a tournament next week,  
not to mention school. You think I'm going to drop everything and leave  
just because you say I should?"  
  
"My daughter will not be swayed so easily by you," Soun said simply.  
  
"I would expect no less," Ranma countered, "considering her teacher. You   
don't have a chance against the hunters, Akane. No matter how well you   
think you've been trained, it is NOT good enough!"  
  
"First you try to boss me around, then you insult my father too?" Akane  
fumed, throwing her hands into the air. "I don't have time for this, I'm   
leaving!  
  
"And don't you worry about me," she added, pointing at Ranma. "I'm a  
martial artist, I'm not about to run away from a fight. I can take  
care of myself!"  
  
With that, Akane turned on her heel and stomped angrily away, violently  
sliding the door closed behind her as she left.   
  
The resounding thud of the door sliding into place echoed briefly inside  
the dojo, followed by a moment of silence before Soun turned to face  
Ranma again.  
  
"Quite a temper," Ranma observed evenly. "That could be a problem."  
  
"I would have expected even you to have a better grasp of my daughter's  
personality," Soun commented dryly. "I don't suppose you've learned that  
much at all."  
  
"It would be easier," Ranma countered, tensing her muscles and clenching   
her fists, "if you weren't undermining me at every step! Do you want your  
daughter to die?"  
  
"Don't you DARE," Soun yelled, stepping quickly up to Ranma. He  
caught himself midsentence, and forced down his anger. Taking a  
deep breath, he continued in a carefully measured tone.  
  
"I would remind you that you are in my dojo, in my home. After all you  
have been responsible for, you WILL show me respect."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ranma replied quietly, relaxing her stance. Her head   
drooped a little as a sigh escaped her. "I just want to make up for   
what happened, Soun. You know as well as I that what I've said is the  
truth. Whether or not Akane believes it isn't relevant."  
  
"You're not the only one who has regrets, Ranma," Soun observed glumly. He  
turned away and stepped toward the shrine. "Not a day goes by that I don't  
wish for the chance to undo what happened that day. I know my own  
stubbornness didn't help at all, but ....  
  
"I can never forgive you for what happened," he continued quietly, more  
to himself than to Ranma. "Never."  
  
"I only want to--" Ranma began, but stopped as she saw Soun's shoulders  
shaking with his sobbing. She let her mouth close with a sigh.   
  
"I don't want this time to be the same. I have learned from my mistake,"  
Soun said through his tears. "I can only pray that you have also learned.  
Take care of my girl, Ranma, or I will make you wish you had never heard  
the name Tendo."  
  
"I promise," Ranma replied solemnly. "I will do everything in my power to  
keep her safe from them. It will be easier if I can be her friend - I need  
her to trust me. I beg of you - don't make this any harder for her than  
it has to be."  
  
"If only she did not need friends such as you," Soun wished, bringing his  
sobbing under control. "She would be much better off if you had not come."  
  
With that, Soun walked slowly away, following his daughter through the far   
door. Ranma watched him leave then stood alone for a moment, silent,   
before reaching down for her sword and cloak.  
  
Slinging the sword over her shoulder, she tugged at the cloak, which  
encircled her arm, then flowed over her shoulder, coiling around her until  
it covered her entire body once more.   
  
Once more shrouded in black, the expression of grim determination restored  
to her face, she stood for a moment in the once-more frigid air of the dojo  
before turning and stepping toward the door behind her.   
  
"I won't fail," she said softly, looking over over her shoulder at the dojo  
shrine. "Never again."  
  
* * *  
  
The sun cast a dull orange hue against the Tendo household as it slowly  
gave in to the horizon's pull, the gentle warmth slowing people, plants  
and animals alike as the hectic pace of the day was reduced toward a  
slow, restful night.  
  
However, one person was oblivious to the day's approaching end.  
  
Akane growled angrily as she unleashed a flurry of kicks upon the training  
dummy. How dare this Ranma come into her life, demand she drop everything,  
and run away from her father?  
  
She had trained for years, following her father down the path of the family  
style. When her father died, she would take over, and lead the school. It  
was what she had always imagined herself doing, and she would be damned  
before she would let some stranger barge into her life and ruin everything.  
  
She let out a cry as she swung a high kick at the dummy's head; a dull  
thud answered her as the head broke off and tumbled to the grass below.  
  
Sighing, she kneeled and picked up the broken head. Another dummy broken.  
The sounds of students training in the dojo reminded her that she should  
not interrupt in order to get another dummy.  
  
Training. That was all she had ever done. Training for what?  
  
Her father seemed so intent upon her learning the family art. She knew he  
wanted her to teach the school's classes once he was no longer able to.   
Was that the only reason?   
  
Did he know Ranma would come? Had he been trying to prepare her, all these  
years?  
  
The regional tournament was coming up in three days. She had been training  
hard, harder than usual, for that tournament. Her father wanted her to  
win, to show everyone that the Tendo school was the best, so that they   
would want to attend it.   
  
That had been her target, her goal. But what beyond that? The next  
tournament? The tournament after that?  
  
Did she want to spend her life doing that?  
  
She did not know. She did know, however, that she wanted to stay with her  
father. She was driven by a need for strength, to keep and protect her  
home.  
  
That was why she trained. Not for tournaments or prestige, but to help  
her home.  
  
She thought back to Ranma smiling at her in the dojo. A filthy, mud-ridden  
wanderer. Akane wondered if Ranma even had a home to defend, and guessed  
that she did not.  
  
Why, then, had Akane seen a fiery determination in those bright blue eyes?  
  
She had felt determination many times in her life. Determination to win  
competitions, to be better than her peers. Determination to prove to her  
father that she could do all he thought she could, and then more besides.  
  
She could not remember, however, ever feeling the depth and intensity of  
will that she had seen for an instant in Ranma's eyes that morning. Never  
had she felt as strongly about anything as Ranma obviously did about  
the supposed threat that was about to make itself known.  
  
She had always strived to prove herself to her father, but the realisation  
dawned on her that she had never really needed to. Her father had never  
doubted her; never questioned her ability. He asked something of her and  
she did it. If not the first time, then shortly afterwards.  
  
The only time he had ever seemed to be doubtful about her abilities ....  
  
.... was when he was talking to Ranma that morning.  
  
Akane clenched her fist. She had not realised it at the time but it was  
the only time in her entire life that her father had not had complete  
confidence in her.  
  
The thought both horrified and enthralled her. If her father did not   
believe her capable, what did that say about her skills as a martial   
artist? But if her father had to question her ability - it meant that, at   
last, she had found a _challenge_.  
  
Akane could not resist a challenge for long.  
  
Her mind ran in circles as she considered what Ranma had said that morning.  
There were so many unanswered questions about this Ranma, so many things   
Akane did not know.  
  
The compulsion to spar with Ranma returned, and Akane looked over her   
shoulder toward the dojo, half expecting Ranma to be there as she did. She  
sighed. No such luck.  
  
Placing the dummy's head back upon its shoulders, she turned back toward  
the house. The anger she had felt only minutes before had been washed away  
in a wave of realisation and replaced with a burning curiosity that  
lingered over her like a cloud and refused to leave her.  
  
There was something strange, unnatural, about Ranma. Her very presence   
sucked the warmth from the room, but at the same time, the very air around  
her felt charged, somehow. The hair on the back of Akane's neck stood up  
at the memory as a shiver prickled her skin.  
  
Even when she was standing near, Ranma seemed only half-present, as if she  
would be gone if one blinked or gazed away for just a moment. She had in  
fact demonstrated her knack for that very trick on two occasions.   
  
Akane could not put her finger upon it, but there was something uncanny  
about this girl. She needed time to think, to try and fathom the answers  
to the many puzzles that had presented themselves to her.  
  
Smiling to herself, she decided a warm bath would give her plenty of time  
to do so.  
  
* * *  
  
A gentle dripping sound was Akane's only companion as she relaxed in the  
water. She stretched her legs out beneath the water's surface, letting  
her head rest back on the side of the bath, her eyes closed as she let the  
water envelop her body.   
  
Her mind attempted to work its way through the many new facts that had  
been presented to her, but Akane found herself frustrated by an inability  
to concentrate.  
  
She found herself daydreaming, thinking back to the tiny smile that Ranma  
had offered in the dojo.  
  
"Spar with me," Ranma was saying. "Show me what you can do."  
  
Akane cringed as she watched herself yell and throw a tantrum like a  
little child. No warrior would behave in such a way. A sudden sense of  
shame brought redness to her cheeks.  
  
Akane shivered, brought from her daydream by the now familiar sharp   
sensation of cold that filled her entire body. She opened her eyes and  
looked around the steam-filled room.   
  
"You're a hard girl to find on her own," came Ranma's voice. "Bath time   
is just about the only time I can get you on your own when you're not   
destroying something."  
  
Akane frowned. Her recently-acquired curiosity was for a moment pushed  
aside by irritation at the accurate but rude observation.  
  
"Not quite so melodramatic now, are we?" Akane observed, trying and failing  
to ignore the barb. "No warnings of death this time?"  
  
"I thought I'd try dropping the formality a bit," Ranma countered. "Your  
father appreciates it more than you, I think. I wanted to show you the  
real me."  
  
"He didn't seem to appreciate you or your formality earlier," Akane   
commented, leaning back against the edge of the bath. "What was that all   
about?"  
  
"It's a very, very long story, Akane," Ranma replied with a sigh. "There  
will be plenty of time to tell it on the road."  
  
"You seem pretty confident I'll come with you. What makes you think I  
can't handle whatever's coming myself? If it's even coming at all, that  
is."  
  
"Confidence always was my strength," Ranma admitted, the corner of her  
mouth turning upwards in a wry smile. "I'm sorry for being rude before.  
I didn't mean to belittle you, and I apologise.  
  
"It's only fair to you that I tell you some more about me, and your   
family. I think you'll agree that leaving is, for the moment, the best   
idea."  
  
"I'm glad you've finally decided to let me in on the big secret," Akane  
noted sourly. "Everyone seems to know what's going on but me."  
  
"Before I do, I want to ask you a very important question."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Mind if I join you in there? I haven't had a good warm bath in years."  
  
Akane blinked, taken off guard by the question. She looked at Ranma's  
dirt-covered face and found herself unable to resist a smile.  
  
"I don't mind. There's some soap over there."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane sat in silence as Ranma scrubbed herself, soap suds bubbling all  
over as thick layers of built up dirt were thoroughly rubbed away.  
  
Ranma hummed a tune to herself as she worked, taking time to enjoy the   
sensation and smell of soap against her body and the shampoo in her hair.   
She smiled merrily as she worked and seemed in no hurry to finish.  
  
Akane did not recognise the tune being hummed, but found herself smiling   
all the more as she heard it. It seemed happy, almost whimsical in nature,  
and was truly a contrast to the stony-faced seriousness Ranma had presented  
to her on previous occasions.  
  
Soon the humming changed to whistling that only occasionally wandered off  
key. Ranma did not seem to notice any deviations from the tune, and Akane  
did not wish to disturb her by pointing out parts that sounded wrong.  
  
Akane was afforded a closer view of Ranma's body as the girl cleaned  
herself. Beneath all that dirt, Ranma had smooth, clear skin that was  
unfortunately blemished with dozens of scars, so many that Akane lost  
count as Ranma shifted about.  
  
In addition to the scars, Ranma's body was decorated with a variety of  
tattoos, a mishmash of Japanese and other artistic styles that Akane did  
not recognise. Akane felt a pang of jealousy at Ranma's figure, and  
a mild irritation at the thought of it being defaced by tattoos.  
  
She recognised a few of the tattoos - dragons, faces, kanji - but others  
she did not. Her curiosity grew more and more, until Akane felt fit to  
burst from the questions buzzing around inside her.  
  
Ranma took what seemed to Akane to be an eternity cleaning herself, but  
was eventually satisfied with the cleaning job she had done, and upended  
a bucket of cold water over herself to rinse away the soap and shampoo.  
  
"Brr ... cold!" Ranma exclaimed, shaking her head back and forth. Cold   
water went flying everywhere as her lengthy hair whipped back and forth,  
some splashing Akane, who was too preoccupied to notice.  
  
Ranma stood and made her way to the bath. Stepping in, she smiled over  
at Akane.  
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting."  
  
"You clean up well," responded Akane, with the first string of words that  
came to mind.  
  
"Thank you," Ranma responded sincerely. "I don't get many chances to  
clean up."  
  
Ranma sank slowly into the water until only her head was above the surface,  
her eyes closed and an expression of bliss decorating her face.  
  
She has a very pretty face, Akane thought. The scar running down Ranma's  
cheek saddened Akane as it detracted from what was otherwise a lovely face.  
  
Silence filled the room as Ranma stayed still and Akane watched her,  
waiting for some comment or sign she should start asking questions.   
Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her. She cleared her throat  
gently.  
  
Ranma opened one eye and turned it to look back at Akane. "Mm?"  
  
"Umm, you said you were going to tell me about my family?" Akane tried,  
tilting her head slightly to the side as she did.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ranma replied, sitting up straight. "I'd just forgotten  
how wonderful this felt. A good, warm bath is good for the soul, don't you  
think?"  
  
"I guess ..." Akane replied, unsure. "They're pretty routine for me."  
  
Ranma smiled at her, and Akane flushed, feeling suddenly stupid for  
not appreciating something that Ranma very obviously enjoyed a great  
deal. The awkward moment passed, however, and Ranma spoke, much to  
Akane's relief.  
  
"Well, I can understand you're curious. I know I would be, if I were in  
your place.  
  
"There's so much I can tell you, it's hard to know where to begin.  
Although," Ranma paused, looking over at Akane, who was still staring, "you  
seem more interested in me than your family."  
  
"S-sorry," Akane stammered, taken by surprise. She looked away. "I didn't  
mean to stare."  
  
"It's okay," Ranma replied, laughing a little.   
  
"I don't mind. It's not often you see a body as good looking as mine, I   
guess," Ranma observed, with a mischevious smile upon her lips. "Although,  
it's usually boys who stare, not girls."  
  
"It's not like that!" Akane yelped, splashing Ranma as she sat up in   
violent denial.   
  
"I know, I know," Ranma replied, waving a hand to dismiss Akane's protests.  
She smiled again, kindly. "I'm just teasing you."  
  
"Honestly," huffed Akane. "I can't believe you said that."  
  
"I'd be pretty curious about all this," Ranma remarked, looking down at   
herself, "if I didn't see it every day. Well, where can I begin?  
  
"My father," she said at length, turning to face away from Akane, "is   
here."  
  
Ranma pulled her flowing hair over one shoulder, exposing a small face   
tattooed just below the back of her neck. She turned back to face Akane.  
  
"He died protecting me, and ever since, he's watched my back."  
  
"He died for you?" Akane asked, stunned by the nobility of it. "What was  
his name?"  
  
"Genma," Ranma replied, nonchalantly brushing her hair back over her  
shoulder. "He was my best friend and my worst nightmare, all rolled in to  
one."  
  
"Your worst nightmare?" Akane asked, wondering how someone who would die  
to save their daughter could be bad. She pondered for a moment her father  
dying to save her life, and felt a sense of pride as she found it easy  
to imagine such an act from him.  
  
"Well, he saved my behind a few times, I'll give him that," Ranma said,  
offhandedly. "Truth of the matter is, though, he got me IN to bad  
situations far, far more often than he got me out of them."  
  
"You shouldn't disrespect him like that," Akane grumbled. "He saved your  
life, you should be grateful."  
  
"Oh, I was, I was," Ranma replied. "Don't get me wrong. I love him, and  
I'd give anything to see him again. I'm just not going to disrespect his  
memory by forgetting all the stupid things he did. It was a part of who  
he was."  
  
Akane blinked, trying to fathom the logic behind that.  
  
Ranma watched her for a moment, smiling at the absurdity of it all. "My  
father was a strange man. Very dedicated to the Art. I think he and  
your father have a lot in common.  
  
"This," Ranma said, indicating a bright red dragon that spiralled down over  
her right shoulder and along her upper arm, "is Garyoutensei. I've carried  
him since my father died."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Garyoutensei," Ranma replied, pointing over her shoulder at the pile of  
her belongings near the door, "is my sword. My father gave it to me as  
he died, and told me to keep it with me as long as I lived."  
  
"'Adding eyes to a dragon'? Strange name for a sword."  
  
"He told me he got it from a dragon," Ranma explained. "He always did have  
a flair for the dramatic."  
  
"He certainly sounds like his daughter's father," Akane noted. Ranma  
flashed an appreciative smile at Akane's jab.  
  
"The story he told me was that he made a deal with a dragon spirit. He  
asked to be the greatest martial artist in the land, and the spirit  
granted his wish. In return, however, the dragon commanded him to take  
the sword, and carry it with him always. It was to become a family  
heirloom. It seemed like a pretty good deal to him, so he took the sword,  
and the deal was sealed."  
  
"That's quite a story," Akane said reverantly, marvelling at the  
romanticism of it all. "Your father sounded like quite the warrior."  
  
"I think," Ranma noted, "the truth was probably a bit different. I think   
he paid a fortune for it from some merchant while utterly, utterly drunk.  
He always did like his alcohol."  
  
Akane looked at Ranma sourly.   
  
"But," Ranma said, holding both hands up in an appeasing gesture, "I wanted  
to always remember the story, so I had the dragon spirit tattooed on my   
arm.  
  
"And this," Ranma continued, standing so her waist emerged from the water,  
"is a mark I was given the last time I told the story of how I was first  
given Garyoutensei."  
  
Ranma pointed at her stomach, where a small kanji was tattooed above a   
large horizontal scar across her stomach.  
  
"Ten?" Akane asked, looking at the kanji. "Why that kanji?"  
  
"'An undefeatable warrior you shall be!'" Ranma quoted with a flourish,  
affecting a strange accent as she did. "I was given that mark quite some  
time ago. Apparently, it is supposed to protect me."  
  
"And does it?"  
  
"It itched for a while after I got it, but that didn't seem overly   
helpful."  
  
"I'm glad to see you have a sense of humour about it," Akane noted, one  
hand rubbing at her right temple.  
  
"It's important to keep a sense of humor," Ranma said, evenly. She lowered  
herself back into the water until she was once again sitting. "Far more  
important than you might think."  
  
"I guess," Akane admitted, watching the kanji sink below the water's  
surface. "You really are a ... a warrior, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes," Ranma nodded, her face becoming serious. "I am."  
  
"What," Akane began, then paused for a moment, considering her question.  
"What is it like, being a warrior?"  
  
"My father always used to say," Ranma began, leaning back to look up  
at the ceiling, "'The path of a true martial artist is fraught with  
peril'. I think that sums it up quite well."  
  
Akane said nothing, gazing down into the water as she mulled over Ranma's  
words.  
  
"I know what you want," Ranma continued after a while, looking back  
down at Akane, who lifted her face to return the gesture. "You want to be  
a warrior. You want to fight, to show to yourself and the world that you  
are strong, that you can do anything. You want to travel the path that's  
fraught with peril."  
  
"Yes," Akane replied quietly. "I want to show them all what I'm capable   
of."  
  
"Come with me," Ranma suggested. She leaned forward, close to Akane,  
and brought her mouth to Akane's ear, to whisper as if revealing something  
secret. "You will be stronger than you ever thought possible."  
  
Ranma drew her head back and leaned against the edge of the bath, her   
eyes not leaving Akane's. A smile crossed her face as she watched  
Akane's reaction.  
  
Akane stared, her mouth going dry as she heard Ranma's offer. She  
swallowed, and became suddenly aware of her heart pounding loudly in her  
chest.  
  
"Why do you want me to come?" she asked. "What is there for you to gain?"  
  
Ranma sighed, all traces of the smiles and laughter long drained from her   
face. Her eyes changed, the sparkle disappeared as the pearls of blue   
seemed to grow old the moment Akane asked the question.  
  
"It's hot in here. I should get out," Ranma commented.  
  
"Wait," Akane insisted, grasping Ranma's arm. "Tell me. Please. I don't  
want to be in the dark about this any more."  
  
Ranma looked at her, a deep and profound sadness etched upon her face. She  
said nothing for several long moments before eventually giving in.  
  
"If you don't leave this place, you'll die, Akane."  
  
"How do you know that? What makes you so sure?"  
  
"You aren't strong enough to save yourself," Ranma stated. There was no  
doubt in her voice.  
  
"But how do you _know_ that?" Akane insisted, squeezing Ranma's arm more  
tightly. "You've told me from the beginning you think I'll die if I stay  
but you've never told me _why_!"  
  
"Your mother was just like you," Ranma explained. "She and your father   
used to live in Okinawa together. I came to them, just as I've come to   
you, and explained that she needed to come with me."  
  
"You knew my mother?" Akane asked, eyes widening. Her hand released its  
grip upon Ranma's arm and fell back into the water.   
  
Just how old was this Ranma?  
  
Ranma nodded sadly. "She didn't want to leave; she was proud of her own   
strength and thought she could handle anybody who challenged her. She was   
wrong.  
  
"They came at night, a swarm," Ranma continued, "and before I knew what was  
happening, she was fighting four of them at once. I tried to help her, but  
it was too late. She was dead before her body hit the floor.  
  
"I knew I had failed her," Ranma said, her voice tight as she recalled the  
painful memory, "so I did the only thing I could to help her; I hid her   
young daughter, so they at least wouldn't find her.  
  
"Your father would not even speak to me afterwards, but he did listen to me  
when I told him to move away from Okinawa. That, at least, he understood.  
That was twelve years ago, and now that young girl has grown into a young  
woman.  
  
"Your father hates me for failing to save your mother, but he learned that   
day to listen to my warnings. I told him I would be back for you if they   
ever found you. He hid you well. I'm lucky to have found you before they   
did."  
  
"My mother," Akane whispered, bringing a hand to her open mouth in shock.  
She did not remember much of her mother; she was only four years old when  
her mother died. She remembered only her face, her smiling face - the face  
she imagined twisted in agony as she was murdered.  
  
"She was a beautiful, wonderful woman," Ranma said softly, seeing the grief  
take Akane's face. "She was strong, talented, proud. It was her pride  
that doomed her, Akane, which is why you need to swallow yours for the  
moment."  
  
"You could have saved my mother?" she asked, looking up at Ranma, tears  
streaming from red-rimmed eyes.  
  
"If I could give my life so she would live again, I would in an instant,  
Akane," Ranma offered, looking into Akane's eyes. "I can't do that, but  
I can stop history repeating itself. It's up to you. I can't make the  
choice for you."  
  
"I'm a martial artist, I won't just run!"  
  
"There will be opportunities for justice," Ranma said, looking down into  
the water. "But you need to learn more about your enemy. If you try to  
fight now, you'll just die. A meaningless death like your mother's."  
  
"Teach me about them," Akane said, determination in her voice. It was not  
a request.  
  
"Yes, Akane," Ranma replied, taking Akane's hand. "I'll teach you what you  
need to know."  
  
Akane bit her lip and squeezed Ranma's hand. So many questions that had  
moments ago seemed so important had faded into insignificance, obliterated  
by the sheer weight of the truth just revealed.  
  
She did not want to believe what Ranma had told her but she knew in her  
heart that it was true. Training be damned. Tournaments be damned. Damn   
the dojo, the students, her home. None of that mattered any more.  
  
The people responsible for her mother's death were out there, somewhere,  
and Ranma was her only link to them. She would find them, and she would  
make them pay. She would repay a thousand times the debt of pain she had  
carried for twelve long years.  
  
It was time for Akane to leave home.  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	2. The Dragon's Tooth

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
"The Dragon's Tooth"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Akane trailed several paces behind Ranma as they made their way down the  
street. The weight of the backpack slung over her shoulder only made it   
harder to push onwards.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder as they walked, the familiar shape of her  
house growing ever smaller against the horizon with every step she took. A  
firm knot formed in Akane's stomach and seemed to grow as she walked   
further and further into the unknown.  
  
She looked ahead again at her companion, a swath of red hair the only part  
that stood out from the sea of black fabric that blended perfectly into the   
night. Why was she following this stranger into the darkness? Why was   
she leaving the only life she had ever known with a person she had met only  
the day before?  
  
Sighing, Akane tried to ignore the roots of doubt and uncertainty that were  
taking hold of a mind that was only an hour earlier firmly awash with the  
fertile seeds of revenge, justice and glory.  
  
"Ranma?" she called out, trying to turn her mind away from such matters.  
  
"Hm?" Ranma replied, slowing and turning her head to glance at Akane.  
"What is it?"  
  
"I wanted to talk," Akane said, taking a quick couple of steps to catch up  
with Ranma.  
  
"About what?" Ranma asked, turning toward the Tendo girl as she came up  
alongside her.  
  
"Well," Akane started, then paused. She had so many questions, it was hard  
to focus on a single topic. After a moment's thought, she decided upon the  
most pressing one. "I want to know more about you."  
  
"Me?" queried Ranma, raising an eyebrow. "What about me?"  
  
"Everything about you!" Akane replied with barely-contained curiosity.  
"You're not like anyone I've ever met. You seem to know a lot about me,  
but I hardly know anything about you."  
  
"Hmm," Ranma said with a shrug, turning her head to once more look   
forwards. "What would you like to know?"  
  
"Where do you come from?" Akane began, opening the floodgate of questions.  
"What's the story with that cloak of yours? How old are you? How did--"  
  
"Slow down, slow down," Ranma interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her  
companion. "I come from a place quite near to here. It's not there  
anymore -- it was torn down some years ago."  
  
"That's terrible," Akane commented. "Why?"  
  
"Times change."  
  
"So where do you live?" Akane probed.  
  
"Wherever my feet carry me, I suppose," Ranma replied, gazing ahead into  
the darkness.  
  
Akane pondered this for a moment, the pair walking on in silence.  
  
"Do you go to school?" Akane asked at length.  
  
Ranma stumbled, caught completely off guard by the question. She looked  
over at Akane as if the Tendo girl had sprouted a second head.  
  
"What?" Akane inquired defensively.   
  
"I've never been asked that before," Ranma said, a smile coming to her  
face. "It's a strange question."  
  
"Sorry," Akane huffed, feeling rather put out. "I didn't know it was a  
strange question."  
  
"In that case, no," Ranma replied, still smiling. "I don't go to  
school. I'm a little old for that."  
  
Akane narrowed her eyes and peered critically at Ranma.  
  
"How old are you, anyway?"  
  
"Old enough to not need to go to school," Ranma replied, a twinkle in  
her eye. "Let's put it that way."  
  
Akane looked away from Ranma, turning her eyes back to the street.  
Silence descended upon the pair, punctuated only by Akane's footsteps.  
  
"Lucky," Akane commented, after a time.  
  
"How so?" Ranma asked, looking over to Akane again.  
  
"I wish I didn't have to go to school," Akane explained.  
  
"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it."  
  
"You're only saying that because you don't have to go."  
  
Ranma chuckled softly. "Probably. Well, soon enough you'll be far too  
busy to worry about school."  
  
"I guess," Akane agreed, noncommittally. "Why are these hunters after me,  
anyway?"  
  
"I'm not sure why," Ranma admitted. "I haven't quite figured that one out  
for myself just yet."  
  
"But there must be -some- reason or other ...."  
  
"I'm sure there is," Ranma replied with a nod. "When I find out what it  
is, you'll be the first one I tell."  
  
"That doesn't make me feel a lot better," Akane sighed. "I've been  
thinking about it a lot. When you find out there's a bunch of people out  
to get you, it's hard not to wonder why, y'know?"  
  
"I can imagine," Ranma said. "Don't worry, though. I'm going to teach  
you how to look after yourself."  
  
"How?"  
  
"You'll see when we get there."  
  
"Where is 'there'?" Akane asked impatiently. She was beginning to get  
annoyed with the continual lack of answers.  
  
"A small mountain near here," Ranma replied. "There is a training ground  
there, and I've got a little present for you once we get there."  
  
"A present?" Akane asked, her interest aroused in the extreme.  
  
"You'll see when you get there," Ranma replied with a mischevious smile.   
"It's a surprise."  
  
"You're not helping, you know," Akane noted with a sigh.  
  
* * *  
  
The moon hung low in the sky, its night-long trek across the heavens nearly  
complete. A thin fog filled the valley with a grey haze. The wet ground  
caused Akane to shiver in her sleep as she rolled over onto the grass.  
  
Thin droplets of water dribbled down between the leaves of the trees  
overhead with each gust of wind, occasionally tumbling down to the ground  
below. It was one such droplet that landed directly on Akane's nose,   
waking her from her slumber.  
  
"Mwuh?" she asked blearily, sitting up. She blinked several times, eyes  
half-open, and looked around her.  
  
"It's nearly morning," Ranma's voice floated into her ears, making her turn  
to face it.  
  
Ranma sat nearby, looking into the small campfire that burned nearby.  
Akane blinked again, trying to clear her eyes.  
  
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said with a yawn.  
  
"That's all right," Ranma replied. "We've travelled pretty far. I think  
we're safe here for now. You can get some more rest if you'd like."  
  
"I think I'm okay," Akane said as she stretched her arms. "What about  
you?"  
  
Ranma looked up at Akane for a moment, the flickering orange light of the  
fire half-illuminating her face. The look on her face was as intense as  
their first meeting, piercing blue eyes seeming to look straight through  
Akane.  
  
Eventually, Ranma gave a small smile and looked back down at the fire. "I   
don't sleep very much. I'm fine."  
  
Akane suppressed a shudder as she watched Ranma stare into the fire. Her  
travelling partner seemed friendly enough, but there were times she was  
genuinely frightening. Akane couldn't help but wonder where this journey  
would lead her.  
  
Scooting toward the fire a little, Akane held her hands up toward the  
flames, trying to warm herself. As always, the air around Ranma was icy  
cold, but as Akane looked closely, she could see the redheaded girl was  
not bothered in the least by the low temperature.  
  
Ranma looked over at Akane and noticed her shivering. Reaching behind   
herself, she took hold of some more wood and placed it upon the fire.  
  
"Thanks," Akane said gratefully, watching the flames dance across the   
wood, sending puffs of grey smoke drifting upward, accompanied by   
crackling sounds as the wood dried out.  
  
"How did you start a fire?" Akane asked, looking at the pile of wet  
firewood.   
  
"I used Garyoutensei," Ranma replied simply, with a shrug of her shoulders.  
  
"Garyoutensei?" Akane asked, surprise in her voice. "Your sword started a  
fire?"  
  
"Yes," Ranma said with a nod. "It's an elemental blade, infused with fire.  
It'll burn anything it touches."  
  
"A magic sword?" Akane asked incredulously.  
  
Ranma nodded matter-of-factly. Her tone was even, her face stony. "That's  
putting it a little simply, but, yes."  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
Ranma shook her head. "No, I'm not."  
  
"A magic sword," Akane repeated. "Uh huh."  
  
"Is it that hard to believe, Akane?" Ranma asked, tilting her head to one  
side. As she spoke, she grasped the sword and pulled it from beneath her   
cloak in one smooth movement, bringing it out from beneath her left arm.   
Holding the handle loosely, she rested the sword lightly across her lap.  
  
Akane studied the blade closely, raising herself up to her hands and knees  
to crawl closer for a better look.  
  
The blade of Garyoutensei was a pure white that glistened in the moonlight,  
its smooth curve and sharp edge catching the pale moon's glow. Leaning  
closer, Akane peered intently at the blade, catching a glimpse of herself  
reflected in it.  
  
"I can see -- myself ..." she said, examining her own face. Pale orange  
light flickered across her visage, surrounding it from all sides. She was  
unsure if the light was from the camp fire or from somewhere else.   
  
Her own eyes stared back at her from the blade with the same intensity she   
had seen in Ranma's eyes only moments before, and she found herself unable  
to look away, a reflected fire that danced behind her own eyes holding her   
transfixed.  
  
"It's warm," Akane mumbled, feeling a gentle, soothing warmth radiating  
from the milky white blade. The heat was enticing, rousing a desire  
in Akane to dive into it as if it were a warm bath.  
  
"Don't touch it," Ranma said, her hand gripping Akane's wrist.  
  
The physical contact snapped Akane out of her reverie; she looked up at  
Ranma confusedly, then down again. Surprise crossed her face as she  
saw her hand was centimetres from touching the blade.  
  
"I didn't ...."  
  
"I know," Ranma replied, resheathing the blade beneath her cloak. The  
warmth around the pair vanished, the icy grip of the cold night air  
around them once again taking Akane into its hold.  
  
"It's in your nature to want to touch it."  
  
"I'm sorry," Akane apologised, shaking her head slightly to clear it.  
  
"Do you believe it now, Akane?" Ranma asked.  
  
"I ..." Akane replied after a moment, eyes trying to follow the sword to   
its hiding place within Ranma's cloak. "What an unusual sword."  
  
"Magic is a dangerous thing," Ranma stated. "It would be better for you if  
you knew nothing about it, but that won't be possible. I'll have to teach  
you."  
  
"Can I hold it?" Akane asked, eyes still intently seeking the blade within  
Ranma's cloak. "I want to try it for myself."  
  
"You aren't capable of handling it just yet. Perhaps with some training."  
  
"What, you think I'm too much of a klutz to handle a sword?" Akane asked,  
an edge of irritation creeping into her voice. "I'm not an idiot, you  
know."  
  
"I didn't say you were, Akane," Ranma replied flatly.  
  
"So why can't I hold it?" Akane said angrily, looking up at Ranma's face.   
"You think I'm going to drop it or something?"  
  
"Calm down, Akane."  
  
"Just let me try it, and I will!" Akane growled. "It won't hurt!"  
  
"It already has," Ranma commented, matching stares with Akane.  
  
"What?" Akane asked, suddenly confused.  
  
Ranma narrowed her eyes, peering critically at Akane, but said nothing.  
  
Akane withered under Ranma's glare, the anger draining from her mind as the  
blood drained from her face. She shivered, and looked back down into the   
fire.   
  
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Akane offered, scratching the back of her  
head in puzzlement. "I didn't mean it."  
  
"It's quite all right, Akane," Ranma replied.   
  
"I don't usually get mad like that," Akane emphasised, to herself as much  
as to Ranma.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Ranma replied. "It's not a big deal."  
  
Akane pulled herself away from Ranma and sat back down beside the fire,  
pulling her knees in to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.  
Silence descended upon the pair, the crackling of the fire and rustling of  
the leaves overhead the only sounds they could hear.  
  
Ranma stared intently into the fire; Akane tried to do so as well, but  
found herself continually glancing at Ranma's face, trying to decipher  
Ranma's mood from her expression.  
  
Uneasy awkwardness hung over Akane like an itchy blanket and she found  
herself shifting and fidgeting to take her mind off it. Nothing seemed  
to help, however, and she eventually decided to risk talking once more.  
  
"Your father gave you your sword?" Akane asked, trying to steer the subject  
away a little.  
  
"Yes," Ranma replied, not looking away from the fire. "When he died."  
  
"You've lived on your own since then, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Ranma said with a nod. "We travelled a lot when he was alive, so  
I didn't really stay in one place long enough to make many friends."  
  
"Why didn't you settle down? This wandering thing seems awfully lonely to  
me."  
  
"I have a duty," Ranma said firmly. "I can't 'settle down'. There are   
more important things to consider."  
  
"What duty?" Akane asked, dusting off her gi. "Besides dropping by my  
house and totally messing with my life."  
  
"I'm not sure exactly," Ranma admitted. "All I know is it involves your  
family and the hunters."  
  
"You don't even KNOW?" Akane asked, eyes wide.  
  
"I don't know all of the details, but I know what we must do for now,"   
Ranma said with a shrug. "From there, I'm sure it will all become clear   
one way or the other. Father wasn't very specific when he passed the duty   
on to me."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Ranma looked up at Akane and sighed before looking down into the flames.  
Bright orange fire danced behind her eyes as she watched the wood burn.  
  
"It's a long story," Ranma replied.  
  
"You're going to have to start telling me about yourself sooner or later,  
you know. Especially since this involves me."  
  
"I guess we have enough time," Ranma said, after a pause. She sighed,  
a puff of condensation drifting away from her mouth. "I'll try to   
explain as best I can."  
  
* * *  
  
A low howling sound echoed through the valley of Jusenkyo as strong air  
currents blustered through the mountain passes. The thin grassblades  
that dared to grow on the elevated outcroppings whipped back and forth  
violently with the force of the chill wind, which then proceeded down  
into the valley below.  
  
At the base of the valley there was a small cluster of springs; in the  
springs were rickety-looking bamboo poles. On two of the poles were  
two men, carefully balanced atop their respective perches with one foot  
each.  
  
"You better be ready, Boy," called Genma, the loose cord at the front of   
his belt swaying in the breeze.  
  
"Heh," Ranma replied, a smirk on his face. "Let's get this over with,  
Pops. I still owe you a beating for not helping me with those bandits."  
  
"Quiet, Boy," Genma growled. "You disrespect your father. You should  
remember to respect your elders, or I'll have to remind you why."  
  
"I could take you down with my eyes closed."  
  
"You are a fool!" bellowed Genma, his deep voice echoing through the  
valley. "You will die young if you don't learn humility, Boy!"  
  
"So humble me," Ranma replied. "If ya can."  
  
"You are limited by your overconfidence, Boy," Genma noted, unsheathing  
his sword. A hot wind swept into existance around him as he swung his  
sword to face Ranma. "I will show you those limits!"  
  
Ranma steadied his stance as Genma launched himself into the air; and  
so, the battle was joined.  
  
Waiting until the last moment, Ranma leapt backwards, launching himself  
into a somersault that vaulted him clear of his father's lunge. He  
sailed lightly through the air as the sound of his father's sword   
splintering the bamboo reached his ears. As he landed, his father was  
in mid-air, leaving behind a broken pole, the splintered tip burning.  
  
"Don't you think you're going a bit far?" Ranma asked, hands on his hips,  
eyes on the smoke rising from his father's blade.  
  
"You are arrogant and cocky!" Genma exclaimed as he landed, levelling his  
sword at his son. "You will never achieve mastery of our art as long as   
you consider yourself a master!"  
  
"So by that logic, I'm guessin', neither will you," Ranma countered, his   
pigtail fluttering behind him in the hot, gusty wind that rocked his bamboo  
pole back and forth.  
  
"You are too quick to forget who is the teacher and who is the student,  
boy," Genma snorted, his sword held steady. "That is only the first  
of your mistakes."  
  
Again Genma launched himself toward Ranma, swinging his sword mightily as  
he arced through the air -- and once again, Ranma tossed himself aside  
at the last moment, turning what began as a clumsy jump into a graceful  
flip as he neared his destination.  
  
"You ain't even close!" Ranma taunted, a smirk on his face. "You're  
getting slow, old man!"  
  
Genma growled angrily in response and again launched himself toward his  
son.   
  
The battle continued for some time, the pair's duel leaving a trail of  
burning bamboo across the field of springs. Both combatants found their  
space restricted after a time, and eventually, there were only two poles  
left.  
  
Ranma smirked at his father, who was panting, face flushed with anger.  
  
"What'cha gonna do, old man?" he teased, knowing full well that if his   
father tried the same tactic, Genma would be left with no pole to land   
on as soon as Ranma landed on the last remaining pole.  
  
Genma snarled and launched himself into the air once more.   
  
Ranma readied himself to jump again but was taken by surprise as his   
father suddenly launched his sword at the pole Ranma was standing on.  
  
He did not have a chance to move before the sword skewered the pole; the  
bamboo snapped as the blade sliced into it, before bursting violently  
into flames. Ranma squeezed his eyes closed as a burst of flames engulfed  
his body for a moment as the pole shattered below him. A wave of intense  
heat struck him like a fist, throwing off his balance.  
  
Ranma wobbled back and forth, coughing on the smoke that drifted up to  
fill his nose. Trying valiantly to retain his balance, he looked around  
for another place to land, but Genma had already landed back on the   
remaining pole. His foot slipped, and Ranma toppled off the pole.  
  
"Respect your master!"   
  
Genma's words filled Ranma's ears in the moment before his body plunged  
into the icy water.  
  
* * *  
  
"I blacked out when I hit the water," Ranma explained, staring into the  
fire. "He pulled me out of the water; if he hadn't I would have drowned."  
  
"It sounds like he went a little too far," Akane noted. "It was only a  
training match; by the sounds of it, he was trying to kill you!"  
  
"Went too far? You don't know the half of it," Ranma commented sourly.  
"As it turns out, the spring was cursed, and when I fell into it, I was  
cursed too."  
  
"Cursed?"  
  
"Don't ask," Ranma said with a sigh. "Let's just say life has been quite  
different for me since that day."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma trudged after her father, her footfalls heavy and strained, much like  
her mood.  
  
"I can't believe you," she complained. "I can't believe you took me to  
that stupid place. Didn't ya know it was cursed?!"  
  
"Stop whining," Genma muttered. "I've apologised already, and besides, I  
wouldn't have knocked you in if you weren't being so insolent."  
  
"You deserve insolence, you idiot!" Ranma yelled, fists shaking in fury.   
"Look at what you did to me! What the hell'm I supposed to do stuck  
like this? Huh?"  
  
"You wanted to be humbled, Boy," Genma replied. "So be humble."  
  
"HUMBLE?!" Ranma exploded. "I'll kill you!"  
  
"You deserved what you got," continued Genma. "You are arrogant and  
foolish. It's about time something knocked you down a peg or two."  
  
"I can't believe you ... I just can't believe you ..." Ranma muttered,  
numb shock taking the place of her anger. Her life as she knew it was  
over.  
  
"Stop your complaining," Genma grumbled, waving his hand dismissively.  
"You're acting like a girl. It's embarrassing."  
  
Ranma responded with several obscene whisperings under her breath. They  
walked along in silence for a time, Genma scanning the surroundings,  
Ranma trying hard to ignore her new breasts as she stared angrily at the  
dirt track below her feet.  
  
"There was a village somewhere around here," Genma noted, after a time,  
"I saw it a couple of days ago. They live near the springs, maybe they  
know about a cure."  
  
"Since when do you care about the bad stuff that happens to me?" Ranma  
queried bitterly. Kicking a pebble away, she muttered quietly, "Stupid   
old man, puttin' me through all sortsa crap all the time ...."  
  
"I don't want you to be a worthless girl any more than you do, Ranma,"  
Genma noted. "It doesn't do me any good to have a female heir."  
  
"Figures," Ranma said in a huff, glaring at her father.  
  
"Now be quiet and keep your eyes open," Genma continued. "I know that  
village is around here somewhere."  
  
* * *  
  
"They don't look too friendly," Ranma commented, peering through tall  
blades of grass at the village below. Her eyes lingered on the spears,  
swords, and other weapons carried by the villagers.   
  
"Yes, well," Genma observed, adjusting his gi, "you are the one who  
speaks Chinese, so you should go first."  
  
Ranma looked sternly at her father. "Uh huh."  
  
With a sigh, she looked back at the village. Holding apart two clumps  
of grass, she peered down through them at the settlement below. The   
buildings were simple huts; the fences, rows of bamboo strapped together.  
Small columns of smoke rose lazily from several fires that burned near  
the various huts.  
  
Every person in the village seemed to be carrying some sort of weapon,  
and Ranma noticed something else unusual about them as well.  
  
"Where are all the men?" she asked herself as she looked left and right  
across the village.   
  
"Hurry up," Genma said, shoving Ranma forward. "I'm right behind you."  
  
Grunting as she was pushed, Ranma pulled herself to her feet and began  
walking down the slope toward the village. She made it about halfway  
before she was spotted by one of the guards, who yelled out to alert  
the rest of the village.  
  
"Intruder!" the guard called, lowering her spear to point at Ranma.  
  
Ranma approached slowly, arms spread wide, her father behind her in  
the same position. She kept her eyes locked on the guard's, making  
no sudden movements, simply continuing slowly forwards.  
  
"Hey," Ranma called out.  
  
"Halt!" called the guard, stepping forward. "Not another step."  
  
Ranma stopped where she was, but was bumped forward as Genma walked  
into her from behind. She glared over her shoulder at him.  
  
"Pay attention," she whispered to him, scowling. "Do what I do or you're  
gonna get us in trouble."  
  
Two other villagers, equally well armed, ran out through the village  
gate and assumed positions alongside the first guard.   
  
"Who are you?" the first guard called. "What do you want?"  
  
"My name's Ranma Saotome," Ranma called in Chinese. She tilted her head,  
gesturing behind her. "This is my father. We came to ask about the   
springs near your village."  
  
"Jusenkyo springs?" the second guard asked. "You should stay away from  
them, outsider. Only a fool would dare go near them."  
  
"What are they saying?" Genma asked.  
  
"They seem to know you pretty well already," Ranma replied with a smirk.  
  
"Ah, my reputation precedes me," Genma said with a smile, puffing out his  
chest.  
  
"I'll say," replied Ranma, deadpan.  
  
"Outsiders are not welcome here," the first guard said, interrupting  
Ranma.  
  
"We've already been to the springs," Ranma said. "We need help."  
  
The first guard scowled, while the other two exchanged glances. "Fools.  
Wait here. Not another step toward the village, or you will die."  
  
"Gotcha," replied Ranma. She watched the first guard turn and walk back  
in through the gates, then turned and spoke to Genma in Japanese.  
  
"I was right, they don't look too friendly."  
  
* * *  
  
"I knew this was a bad idea," Ranma grumbled, edging away from the tip  
of a spear that was pointed at her. The three guards around them guided  
them toward the centre of the village, their spears ensuring that neither  
Ranma or her father wandered off course.  
  
"Quiet, Boy," Genma whispered. "If we play smart, we'll be fine."  
  
They approached a small gathering of villagers clustered together around  
a fire, excited murmurings passing back and forth between them. Every  
pair of eyes in the crowd was locked firmly on Ranma and her father.  
  
"Doesn't look like they get visitors often," Ranma noted, looking over at  
a group of frightened-looking children, a scowling woman crouched behind  
them, arms around their shoulders. A large sword dangled from the woman's  
belt.  
  
Ranma's eyes widened as she noticed that the children also carried small  
daggers attached to their belts. "Definitely don't get visitors often."  
  
"Look, Boy," Genma said, nudging Ranma's arm. "That must be the leader."  
  
Ranma's eyes lingered on the children for a moment before shifting to the  
direction Genma was pointing. Atop a finely crafted bamboo chair sat a  
short, shrivelled old woman, whose hair was long enough to pile in a heap   
on the ground behind her.  
  
Ranma peered at this strange woman. The woman's features were extremely   
wrinkled, her body hunched over and frail-looking, her face sunken and old.  
Her eyes were different, though; they burned bright with a youthful   
curiosity that seemed out of place on a face so old.  
  
"Eww," Ranma commented, shuddering a little at the old woman's aged visage.  
Compared to the majority of the villagers, who were good-looking in the  
extreme, the old woman could only be described as ... a prune.  
  
"I am Cologne," the old woman announced, hopping nimbly down from her   
chair. "I lead this Amazon village. Who are you?"  
  
"I'm Ranma, and this is my dad," Ranma replied, surprised at the old   
woman's agility. "We just visited--"  
  
"Jusenkyo, I know," Cologne interrupted. She leaned in close to Ranma,  
closely inspecting the redheaded girl's face. "Hmm. Your problem doesn't  
seem so bad to me."  
  
"How'd you know it was me that had the curse?"  
  
"You walk like a brutish, unrefined man," Cologne replied with a dark  
smile. "Any true woman can tell you weren't born female."  
  
"Brutish 'n unrefined!?" Ranma seethed. "Why, you ...."  
  
"Can she cure you?" Genma asked, watching the old woman's inspection of  
his son. "What's going on?"  
  
"D'you know how to fix this stupid curse?" Ranma asked irritably. "I  
don't have time to be stuck as a stupid girl. I've got trainin' to do."  
  
"Ha!" Cologne laughed, pulling away from Ranma. "Of course I know how  
to cure you. I can't imagine why you'd want to give up such a wonderful  
gift as womanhood, but if that is your clumsy desire ... hot water will  
revert you to your original form."  
  
"Hot water? That's it?"  
  
Cologne nodded.  
  
"All right!" Ranma exclaimed, jumping into the air. "That's easy!"  
  
"Shampoo," Cologne called over her shoulder, "fetch some hot water for  
our visitors."  
  
"What did she say?" Genma asked, seeing Ranma's elation. "What's the  
cure?"  
  
"Hot water!" Ranma explained happily. "That's all, just hot water!"  
  
"So simple," Genma commented, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I would   
have expected something more complicated."  
  
"Whatever, as long as I get to be a guy again, I'm happy," Ranma chimed  
enthusiastically.  
  
"Agreed. I was worried you'd be stuck in that useless body forever."  
  
"It would do you well," Cologne interrupted in Japanese, "to keep your  
insults to yourself while you're in my village."  
  
"You speak Japanese?" Ranma asked, eyes wide.  
  
"Yes, and I've heard everything your moronic father has said. I suggest  
you keep your tongue still from now on, old man."  
  
"Old man? You're one to talk, you--" Genma began, but was interrupted by  
an enormous splash as a large container of hot water was emptied over  
Ranma.  
  
"Hot!" Ranma yelled in a once-again male voice as the scalding water  
poured over his body. He shook his body back and forth, sending water  
splashing everywhere. This earned him angry glares from his father,  
Cologne, and the purple-haired girl who had poured the water on him.  
  
"All right, I'm a guy again!" Ranma exclaimed excitedly, looking down  
at his once-again flat chest.   
  
Genma acknowledged his son's transformation with a tight-lipped nod,  
his eyes locked on Cologne. He scowled angrily, lowering one hand to  
his sword's handle. Fingers closing around it, his scowl only deepened.  
  
"It isn't wise to insult me," Genma growled.  
  
"You would challenge an entire village of Amazons?" Cologne asked,  
laughing. "Men truly are fools!"  
  
Ranma looked back and forth between his father and Cologne, who were  
staring daggers at each other. Glancing around, he noticed the rest of  
the villagers were readying their weapons.   
  
"Hey, uh, Pops, calm down," Ranma said, putting a hand on his father's  
arm. "I insult you all the time, don't start getting annoyed about it  
now ...."  
  
"I won't let this old hag insult me," Genma growled, gripping his sword's  
scabbard with one hand, the fingers of his other hand tightening their  
grip on the handle. He tugged the sword, slowly unsheathing it. Ranma  
felt a surge of burning heat as the sword came into view.  
  
"Nobody insults the Saotomes and lives to tell the tale," Genma said, a  
smirk crossing his lips. "I hope you're ready to die."  
  
"Uhh ...!" Ranma looked around at the fifty or so armed Amazons  
surrounding him, and cried out, "What the hell are you doing, Pops?!"  
  
"Quiet," Genma rumbled, his voice carrying a gravity that seemed to shake  
the very earth beneath Ranma's feet.  
  
Ranma reeled at the venom in his father's voice; he stared wide-eyed at  
the man before him. Several of the Amazons stepped forward, brandishing   
sharp weapons, but all stopped in their tracks as Cologne held up a hand,   
her eyes wide.  
  
"You have a dragon's tooth blade?!" she exclaimed. "What is a man doing  
wielding that sword?"  
  
"Heh," Genma said with a smirk. "Men are not as weak as your ego would  
have you believe."  
  
"You fool," Cologne said, eyes locked on the blade. "You can't begin to  
comprehend what that weapon--"  
  
"I understand perfectly," Genma said confidently. "This blade will destroy  
you and your entire village."  
  
"You cannot hope to control its power!"  
  
"You'd be surprised what I can do, old hag."  
  
"For the sake of anyone who may have the misfortune of crossing your path,  
I cannot let you keep that sword. Give it to me, or I will have you  
killed."  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ranma called out, holding up his hands. "Things are  
getting a little out of hand here--"  
  
Ranma backed away from the Amazons nearest him, realising his words were  
having no effect.  
  
"Pops, give them the damn sword!" he called out, realising they stood no  
chance. "We're gonna get killed if you don't!"  
  
"This is the Saotome family sword. It belongs to me, and will one day  
belong to my son. The only time you'll touch this sword," Genma said to   
Cologne, raising his blade, "is when it's slicing you in half."  
  
"Very well," Cologne said with a sigh. She nodded to a group of Amazons  
standing nearby. "Kill him."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane stared at Ranma, wide-eyed, as the redheaded girl fell into   
silence. The fire had long since died out; smouldering embers were all  
that remained of it. The early morning sunlight was beginning to break  
through the foliage overhead.  
  
"Why was your father so mad? I don't get it," Akane commented.  
  
"He was proud," Ranma answered. "Proud and stupid. He honestly thought  
he could kill them all."  
  
"Wow," Akane said.   
  
"He was acting strange that day," Ranma added. "He wasn't usually that  
annoyed by insults. I insulted him all the time and it didn't bother him  
a bit."  
  
Akane said nothing for a moment, mulling the story over. "I don't  
understand why he was so upset at them. I mean, his daughter seems to  
be a pretty capable fighter, why did he think girls were so inferior?"  
  
Ranma mulled this over for a moment. She had told Akane some of the  
story, but not all. The nature of her curse was one thing left out of  
her retelling - there would be a better time to reveal that.   
  
"I don't know," she said. "I think he was angry because I got cursed."  
  
"What was the curse? You cured it with hot water, right?"  
  
"Hot water was only a temporary cure, it turned out," Ranma said sadly.  
"They didn't say that at the time, but cold water brought it right  
back."  
  
"But," Akane began, thoughtfully, "you were in the bath earlier, that was  
hot water. I didn't notice anything change."  
  
"That's a long story, and it will have to wait for another time."  
  
Akane looked curiously at Ranma; the redheaded girl's expression indicated  
she would offer no further explanation.  
  
"Okay," Akane said, backing off on that topic. "So what happened after   
the Amazons attacked you?"  
  
"Father fought them. I'd never seen him that angry before; he was like  
a madman, slaughtering whoever got in his way. If he hadn't been so angry,  
he might have survived ...."  
  
"Ranma," Akane said softly, knowing all too well the pain of losing a  
parent. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I'd never seen him like that before," Ranma softly continued, gazing deep  
into the fire. "It was horrible; he was like some sort of monster. The  
damn sword made him think he was invincible."  
  
"If it's so bad, how come you still carry it around?"  
  
"That," Ranma sighed, drawing her cloak tight around herself, "is my   
obligation."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma watched numbly as his father lunged forward with a mighty swing.  
The pure white blade danced in a graceful arc through the air, the sword  
somehow turning motions that were blunt and angry at Genma's hand into  
smooth, elegant and controlled movements at its tip.  
  
Ranma found himself unable to move, held utterly transfixed by the  
beauty of the sword in motion. The air itself seemed to sing as the  
blade carved through it, a trail of white-hot light hanging in its wake  
for the briefest of moments.  
  
Three Amazon women rushed toward Genma, swords raised high to strike.  
  
Genma's face contorted in a vile snarl, his arms guiding the sword in a  
semicircle before him, ripping a gash across the midriffs of the three  
Amazons. Their screams filled the air but they did not merely fall -   
instead they burst violently into flames and exploded into a cloud of   
ash as they were burned by the intense heat the blade brought to bear   
upon them.  
  
A gasp ran through the crowd as the ashes hung in the air, drifting slowly  
down toward the earth near Genma's feet. The horrific beauty of it   
captivated Ranma, leaving him unable to tear his eyes away. A sickening,   
repulsive wave of horror tumbled down through his body, the blood draining  
from his face as nausea gripped his stomach.  
  
His father had never killed anyone, never struck anyone with the sword   
before. A few moments ago, he would have thought it ridiculous to think   
that Genma Saotome would ever kill anyone. That had all changed.  
  
Ranma could see it in Genma's eyes, eyes that burned with an intense  
desire; a desire to kill. To destroy. A shudder ran down Ranma's back  
as he stared at his father and saw a man he did not recognise.  
  
Genma intended to kill them all, and none of the Amazons could stop him.  
This wasn't a fight, it was a slaughter. It had to stop.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Ranma clenched his fists and took a step toward his  
father.  
  
"STOP!" he bellowed powerfully, his voice echoing through the valley.  
  
Silence fell as Ranma's voice faded into the distance; all eyes turned to   
face him. A moment of stillness swept across the valley; even   
Garyoutensei's fiery dance was brought to a halt.  
  
Ranma stared hard at Genma; a crimson fire seemed to burn in his father's  
eyes, lending the old man an otherworldly appearance. Waves of heat  
radiated from his father, the air between them distorted by the radiated  
warmth.  
  
Genma met his son's eyes across the distance between them and his own  
eyes seemed to soften, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of his   
actions was suddenly placed upon them. His eyes moistened as he slowly  
lowered his blade, the tip falling to the dirt below him. A silent   
moment passed between the two of them, no words needing to be said.  
  
"Son ..." Genma whispered, loosing his grip upon the sword.  
  
It was at that moment that an arrow whistled through the air to pierce  
Genma's chest.  
  
Shampoo lowered her bow, hand reaching for another arrow just in case.  
Cologne held up a hand, stilling Shampoo's movements.  
  
"Let them surrender," Cologne commanded. "There will be no more deaths  
today."  
  
"Pops?!" Ranma cried, dashing forward as his father stumbled.  
  
Genma looked down in shock at the arrow's shaft, protruding from the   
rapidly-spreading red stain on his gi. Raising a shaky hand, he closed  
his fingers around the arrow, mind numb with disbelief. Tugging it  
slightly, his mind was brought sharply into focus by the sudden starburst  
of pain that jolted his entire body.  
  
Ranma caught Genma as he fell forward, gingerly propping him up.  
  
"Escape ..." Genma choked, blood and spittle flying from his mouth. "We  
must ... escape, Ranma ...."  
  
"Pops?" Ranma cried, hot tears stinging his eyes.   
  
"Now, Boy ..." Genma wheezed, a stream of blood pouring down his chin.  
Shakily, he brought his sword to Ranma's hand, placing the handle into  
his son's grasp.  
  
Ranma cried out in anguish, watching his father wince in agony. Gritting  
his teeth, he flung himself into motion.  
  
Shampoo quickly raised her bow as she saw movement from the pair of   
outsiders, and brought forth another arrow.  
  
With a sudden determination and a strength he did not know he possessed,  
Ranma hoisted his father over one shoulder and took off at a sprint  
toward the village gates, shoving aside six Amazon women who stood in  
his way. He was past the gate by the time they hit the ground.  
  
"Such speed ..." Shampoo uttered, awestruck, as she watched the pair  
disappear in a blur. She lowered her bow, slinging her arrow back into  
its quiver.  
  
"Carrying the old man, too," Cologne added, nodding thoughtfully. "That  
child cannot be allowed to keep that sword. Three Amazons have died  
needlessly - there will be many more deaths if that weapon is not   
destroyed."  
  
"I will return it," Shampoo vowed solemnly. "I will avenge them."  
  
"They will not be easy prey," Cologne cautioned. "The old man may well  
be injured, but that means nothing."  
  
"I am an Amazon," Shampoo said, pride swelling in her voice. "They will  
be no match for me."  
  
"Very well, child," Cologne agreed. "Find them, and bring back that  
weapon. The time is right for you, great-granddaughter. Succeed, prove  
yourself as a warrior."  
  
"I won't fail," Shampoo swore, closing her hands into fists. Slinging her  
bow over her shoulder, she sprinted off after the sword.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma ran wildly through the trees, foliage snapping across his face as he  
weaved desperately through the forest. Panting hard, forcing air into  
protesting lungs, he surged forward, jumping across a small ditch.  
  
His eyes stung with tears, his face bled from twigs scraping across it,  
his shoulders ached from the limp weight of his father upon them.  
  
His hand burned, too; heat from the handle of his father's sword seared  
his skin. Ignoring the pain, he gripped the sword more tightly.  
  
Where the hell am I going?  
  
Hearing a pained grunt over his shoulder, he loosened slightly his grip  
upon his father.  
  
"I'll get you out of here," he panted, looking left and right for routes  
to take.  
  
"Put me down," Genma groaned, breathing heavily.   
  
"What?" Ranma asked, bewildered, as he charged through a bush. "We  
can't stop, they're right behind us!"  
  
"Put me ... down," Genma repeated, wincing with his words. "Now, Boy."  
  
Ranma reluctantly slowed his run to a stop. Gingerly, he lifted his  
father from his shoulder and set him down by the base of a tree.  
  
"You must escape," Genma wheezed. "I'm ... slowing you ... down."  
  
"No way, Pops!" Ranma insisted. "I'm going to get some help, and--"  
  
"No," Genma interrupted, shaking his head. He looked down at the  
deep crimson stain on his gi. "There's nothing ... around here but that  
village and the mountains."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Listen ... Boy," Genma grunted, reaching up to squeeze Ranma's arm. "Take  
the sword ... and go. It is the Saotome ... family legacy. The Saotome  
name must live on. Don't ... let it die here today because of my foolish  
act."  
  
"I'm not going to leave you!" Ranma insisted.  
  
"If you only ever obey me once ... obey me now. Please, Boy," Genma   
pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, eyes dull with agony. "Take the sword  
... go back to Japan ... don't ever lose Garyoutensei ...."  
  
"I can't--"  
  
"Promise!" Genma persisted, his pasty-white hand shaking as released   
Ranma's arm. He took hold of his sword's scabbard and handed it to Ranma.  
"You must do this ... it's important."  
  
Ranma stared hard at his father, tears burning his cheeks, and placed his   
hand over Genma's. Squeezing it firmly, he nodded, then took the scabbard.  
  
"All right, father," he said solemnly, sliding the sword home into its  
scabbard. "I promise."  
  
"Go back to our home," Genma continued. "Continue the Saotome legacy.   
Find ... Kayoko."  
  
"Kayoko?" Ranma asked, puzzled. "Why?"  
  
"You'll find out," Genma replied through a cough, then smiled thinly.  
"Make me ... proud, Ranma."  
  
"I'll ... try," Ranma said, squeezing his father's hand. "I'm sorry ...."  
  
"Don't be," Genma said with a blood-tinged smile. "You will be  
strong. You will--"  
  
A rustling noise came from the bushes behind Ranma. He whirled to look  
behind himself, scanning back and forth across the foliage.  
  
"Go, Boy," Genma groaned. "I'll ... delay them. Go, and survive."  
  
"I'm going to find a way to help you," Ranma said, determinedly, and  
sprinted off through the bushes. "I'll come back when I do."  
  
Genma watched his son leave, sadly shaking his head. The rustling sounds  
of his son's progress faded slowly into silence, and Genma let out a   
long, pained sigh.  
  
"No ... you won't," he said softly. "It's your turn now. I'm sorry,  
Ranma."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma barrelled through the forest, ducking and weaving under branches and  
between tree trunks, panting heavily as he weaved through the obstacles.  
Glancing all around him as he went, he searched for a village, a   
settlement, anything or anyone that might help his father.  
  
There was nothing to be found, however; the pounding of his heart, the   
rustling of the trees, the rush of his breath and the scrape of his sword  
upon the ground were his only companions in the forest.  
  
Frantically looking back and forth, Ranma tried to make out something,   
anything which offered hope. A tree here, a ditch there ...  
  
A clearing!  
  
Off to his right, Ranma saw it; the boundary of the forest. Sliding to  
a halt, he threw himself toward the clearing, panting heavily as he  
rushed toward it. Shoving aside a branch that blocked his way, he emerged  
from the trees and into the grassy clearing.  
  
His rush slowed to a jog, then a stop, as he saw what lay ahead.  
  
A cliff?  
  
Where do I go from here, he wondered, looking back and forth. He spun on  
his heels and looked back at the forest behind him - thick, imposing,   
seemingly impenetrable. It stretched around him in a semicircle, reaching  
all the way around to the cliff edge on either side of the small clear   
area.  
  
Turning back toward the cliff, he leaned out over it and peered downwards.  
Craggy, broken rocks protruded from the cliff edge, weathered by years of  
rainfall and storms. No sharp edges, but nothing to grip on to either.  
  
Far, far below, enormous waves beat mercilessly on the rocky outcroppings  
at the base of the cliff, churning sea water sending white spray flying  
into the air with every impact. The dull thud of each wave breaking   
travelled up the cliff to Ranma's ears, out of synch with the sight below  
him.  
  
Ranma, it seemed, was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  
  
"Damn it ..." he seethed, hesitation and indecision taking hold of his  
mind.  
  
"There is no escape," came a voice from the forest edge. Ranma turned  
toward its source.  
  
"You!" he yelled, taking up a defensive posture. She had made it past  
Genma, which meant only one thing.  
  
"You ... you killed my father!"  
  
"He killed my sisters!" Shampoo countered with a snarl. "He paid the  
price for his actions!"  
  
Ranma stared hard at the purple-haired Amazon girl. Seething with rage,  
he lowered his hand to the handle of his sword.  
  
"Don't do that," Shampoo warned. "You saw what that blade did to your  
father. You can't control it any better than he did."  
  
"Don't patronise me!" Ranma raged, gripping the sword. Anger coursed  
through his veins, fury burning at his soul. "Just shut up and fight!"  
  
"I don't want to kill you," Shampoo stated, drawing her own sword. She  
pulled her bow off her shoulder and placed it on the ground. "I'm here   
for the sword. Don't make me kill you to get it."  
  
"Don't worry," Ranma countered, slowly drawing the pure white blade  
from its scabbard. "You won't."  
  
Ranma raised the sword to point at Shampoo, marvelling at how light and  
small its presence was. It felt to Ranma as if he were pointing at the  
Amazon with his own finger. He sliced experimentally through the air in  
front of him, watching the sword trail a perfect arc. His father had not  
taught him swordfighting, but it felt utterly natural to him.  
  
Shampoo stared at the sword, transfixed, as Ranma slowly waved it back  
and forth. Its white edges, somehow infused with a depth that reflected  
light at her with an alluring glimmer, seemed to call out to her with the   
voice of a true warrior woman.  
  
"So beautiful ..." she murmured, watching the sword closely. Before she   
knew it, she was rushing forward to attack its wielder.  
  
Ranma felt the sword rising and put up no resistance, letting it drift  
upwards. He watched as it slowly lifted itself high above his head,   
wondering for a moment where it was going. He caught sight of a flash of  
purple and turned to face it.  
  
Shampoo swung her sword with brutal strength, a mighty overhead chop that  
would finish the battle in one decisive motion - only to have her sword  
deflected by a lightning-quick parry from Ranma.  
  
Ranma watched Shampoo's blade graze his; a strange sense of detachment  
came over him as he twirled the sword sideways, the motion sending  
Shampoo's sword down past his shoulder, the momentum she had put into  
the swing carrying her body forward past Ranma. He let fly a couple  
of quick punches into the girl's stomach, followed by a third into her  
ribs.  
  
Shampoo gasped, clutching her side as she tumbled past Ranma, falling to  
her knees as the wind was knocked out of her. Groaning, she looked over  
her shoulder at the boy standing over her.  
  
"You're fast," she said simply.  
  
Ranma merely grunted in response, taking a step backwards and lowering  
his sword.  
  
Getting to her feet, Shampoo again gripped her sword with both hands and  
charged toward Ranma, letting out a wild cry as she swung again.  
  
Again Ranma parried the swing, swapping the sword to his left hand to  
hold off an attack that would have beheaded him. Shampoo's body was left  
exposed and he took full advantage, launching a volley of punches that   
began in the stomach and ran up the chest, ending the attack with a violent  
uppercut to Shampoo's chin.   
  
The sheer force of the blows sent Shampoo flying backwards, her sword   
tumbling from her hand as she fell. She landed hard, her sword impaling   
the ground near the trees.  
  
Blood streamed from her nose as she shook her head, trying to throw off  
the haze of dizziness that had overcome her. She groaned as she sat up,   
trying not to vomit as a wave of nausea hit her.  
  
Damn him, she thought. He's too fast. I don't know if--  
  
A humming filled Shampoo's left ear and she turned to see Ranma holding  
his sword's edge near her neck. She swallowed, the waves of heat radiating  
from the blade making her sweat.  
  
Defeated, she thought, her heart sinking. She was left only two options.  
  
"Kill me quickly," she said quietly, closing her eyes. "I've failed."  
  
Ranma looked down at the girl before him; trembling, bleeding, defeated.  
He hated her intensely; a fire burned in his soul, driving him to seek  
justice and vengeance for his father's death. An angry voice screamed in  
his ear, telling him to drive the sword through this girl and be done  
with it.  
  
Do it.  
  
Raising the sword, Ranma gripped it with both hands and stared down at  
Shampoo's face, a bloodied, tear-streaked face that offered no resistance,  
nothing but resignation to fate.  
  
DO IT.  
  
Anger; furious, devastating, world-shaking anger. Ranma's eyes burned  
red with rage as he slowly, shakily drew the sword back, poised to strike.  
  
DO IT!  
  
Shampoo felt the heat and humming recede and squeezed her eyes tightly  
closed, waiting for the inevitable. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she  
awaited the inevitable, thoughts of her family and her shameful defeat  
running like phantoms through her mind. Closing her hands into fists,  
she quietly waited for death.  
  
And waited.  
  
The silence in her ears was deafening, the wind and the distant pounding of  
the waves the only sounds she could make out. Taking a deep breath, she  
opened one eye a tiny fraction.  
  
Ranma stood a few paces away, facing the cliff, staring intently at the  
sword. Shampoo opened both eyes and stared at the boy, who seemed to be   
completely ignoring her. Taking advantage of the situation, she leapt to  
her feet.  
  
"I can feel it," Ranma muttered, staring deep into the pure white blade.  
He stepped toward the cliff, holding the sword up toward the sky to watch  
it catch and reflect the sunlight. "I can see into you ...."  
  
"Give me the sword."  
  
Ranma turned to face the voice, lowering the sword slightly. Shampoo stood  
near the forest edge, holding her bow. An arrow pointed directly at Ranma,  
and he could see her fingers straining to hold back the bowstring.  
  
He looked away from her and back at the blade. His reflection stared back  
at him, surrounded by a white hot inferno, the blazing heat between him and  
his reflection threatening to burn his face, such was its intensity.  
  
"I'm starting to figure this out," Ranma said, glancing in Shampoo's   
direction for just a moment. "This sword ...."  
  
"Give me the sword," Shampoo repeated, more firmly. "I won't ask again."  
  
"I can't do that," Ranma replied, a dark frown creasing his features. He  
lowered the sword, and stared intently at Shampoo. "I have a promise to  
keep."  
  
Shampoo gasped, staggering back a step as wave of heat struck her, the fiery  
intensity of Ranma's gaze taking her by surprise. Gritting her teeth, she  
steeled herself, planted her back foot firmly in the ground, and took aim.  
This had to end.  
  
"Damn you for making me kill again, outsider," she snarled, and loosed her  
arrow. It sped through the air, straight and true, and plunged into   
Ranma's shoulder with a sickening thud.  
  
Ranma cried out in pain, instinctively reaching up to grip his shoulder.   
Blood ran between his fingers as he tugged furiously at the arrow's shaft.   
Pain burst through his body as he gave a hard tug to dislodge the arrow,   
causing his sword arm to jerk involuntarily.  
  
Ranma's eyes widened as his sword slipped from his fumbling grasp and  
tumbled backwards. He grasped desperately for it with fingers clumsy with  
lack of blood; the sword slipped through them and dropped below the cliff's  
edge.  
  
"No!" Ranma cried out in desperation, watching the sword spin as it   
fell toward the rolling ocean far below. Numb shock flooded his mind and   
heart, the stinging pain in his shoulder all but forgotten as he watched   
his family legacy disappear into the sea.  
  
"Damn you!" he bellowed, whirling to face Shampoo once more. Rage filled  
every fibre of his being, rage borne of his father's needless death and   
his own inability to keep his promise. "I'll kill you!"  
  
Shampoo did not respond; she had already released the bowstring to send  
another arrow hurtling toward Ranma - this time, aimed at his heart.  
  
He had no chance to dodge or think; he barely had time to breathe before  
the impact. The crude arrow cracked his ribcage, cruelly piercing his  
chest. Air rushed from his lungs in a silent scream, his mouth hanging  
open in disbelief as the force of the arrow pushed him backwards toward  
the cliff.  
  
Arms flailing, eyes wide in stunned agony, Ranma plunged over the edge.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma hurtled toward the sea, arms groping desperately for something,  
anything to slow his descent. There was nothing to grasp but air; Ranma  
gasped for breath as the howling wind pushed up against him. A wave of  
windy fists assaulted him with brutal force, bruising his body with their  
intensity.  
  
The fall seemed to last forever, Ranma's body shaking with cold as the  
windstream robbed him of warmth. The pain in his chest throbbed  
excruciatingly, his lifeblood slipping from his body as he plunged  
endlessly downwards. He toppled end over end, utterly out of control.  
  
The spinning of his body slowed, and Ranma managed to catch a glimpse   
of the ocean below him. The waves broke violently on a rocky outcropping  
directly below him, and -- a glimpse of white light winked at him from   
within the ocean spray. Ranma blinked painfully, eyes dry from the harsh  
wind, and tried to focus on that spot of white.  
  
The white glimmer grew larger, and Ranma was able to make out the  
blade of his sword protruding straight up from the rocky surface below.  
Ranma felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realised the sword had  
become stuck in the rocks and had not been swept away by the tide.  
  
That relief was quickly displaced by a sinking dread as Ranma realised  
that the sword was pointing straight upwards, and he was heading straight  
for it.  
  
Ranma's mouth flew open in a piercing scream as he descended toward his  
doom.  
  
* * *  
  
Shampoo's bow clattered to the ground, abandoned, as she heard the scream.  
She dashed toward the cliff edge, the brutal thud of Ranma's landing  
reaching her ears just as she reached it.  
  
Horrified, she stared down at the flames below.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma screamed, writhing in agony as his half-crushed body burned on the  
jagged rocks. His sword gleamed red with his blood, protruding from his  
back as his body began to burn from the inside out.  
  
He choked on his blood, coughing up mouthfuls of vomit as he clutched his  
tortured throat with a flaming hand. He felt his skin burning and rolled  
back and forth across the rocks, frantically trying to put out the fire;  
all he managed to do was shove the sword deeper into his stomach.  
  
The arrow lodged in his chest burned and crumbled to ash, unnoticed by   
Ranma as he tried desperately to put out the flames, to pull out the sword,  
to die; to somehow stop the pain.  
  
An enormous wave reared up and crashed over Ranma; the fire was   
extinguished with a hiss of steam as the icy water slammed into his body.  
  
She could put up no resistance as the wave powerfully shoved her up against  
the cliff face, nor could she stop herself from being dragged across the  
rocks and into the ocean as the wave retreated back into its creator.  
  
Ranma embraced the icy depths as she sank below the surface, and did not  
fight the darkness as it swallowed her whole. Her final breath bubbled  
up to the surface, lost amongst the raging tide.   
  
Frozen, silent bliss enveloped her consciousness - silent but for a soft   
awareness that echoed in her mind.   
  
"Welcome, my friend. I'm so pleased to see you again ...."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	3. Slings and Arrows

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
"Slings and arrows"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Shampoo panted as she rushed along the burning sand of the beach, the heat  
searing her feet all but forgotten as she sprinted towards the ocean. Her  
search had gone on for two hours, but any thoughts of tiredness were  
banished from her mind.  
  
In the distance, a small, burned body lay face-down in the sand. Waves  
lapped rhythmically over it, gently rocking the lifeless body back and  
forth.   
  
Shampoo was abruptly brought to a halt by the sickening stench of scorched  
flesh that assaulted her nostrils. Skidding to a stop, she had to fight   
the retching that suddenly gripped her stomach.  
  
"Horrible," she moaned. Holding her stomach firmly, she took a shaky  
step forward.  
  
Steam rose lazily from the body which lay naked, its clothes long since  
burned off. A faint hissing sound filled the air with every fresh wave  
of water that splashed across the body.  
  
Blackened flesh and singed hair greeted Shampoo's eyes as she peered more  
closely, holding her nose closed between thumb and forefinger.  
  
A large gash ran across the body's back, the wound cauterised by the  
immense heat. Deep black scorch marks obscured most of the features of   
the corpse, but as Shampoo circled around to its other side, she caught  
sight of a sliver of pure white.  
  
"The sword," she gasped. She had assumed it would have been swept away  
by the ocean. Ranma's blackened hand was closed tightly around the sword's   
handle in a solid grip.   
  
Shampoo looked back at the sizable wound on Ranma's back and wondered how  
the girl had managed to grip the sword that skewered her after the fall.  
She reached down and took ahold of the sword's handle, and tugged it  
gently.  
  
Ranma's grip was strong; all Shampoo managed to do was tug the girl's   
body slightly along the sand. Frowning, Shampoo tugged harder, but still  
found she could not free the sword from the corpse's grip.  
  
"I'm sorry," Shampoo whispered quietly as she reached for her sword. It  
did not feel good to desecrate the dead, but she had no choice. Bringing  
her sword to Ranma's arm, she pressed the edge against the girl's wrist,  
then slowly raised the blade, ready to slice.  
  
"Nnng ...." Ranma moaned into the sand, her hand loosing the sword for a  
moment then gripping it more tightly than before.  
  
"What the hell?" Shampoo exclaimed, jumping back in utter shock. She  
landed on her backside a short distance away and stared at Ranma. "She's   
... alive?"  
  
Ranma moaned again, a pained, pitiful sound; barely audible through the  
soaked sand. Her body shifted slightly, and she choked, trying to  
breathe.  
  
Sheathing her sword, Shampoo leaned forward and gingerly placed a hand on  
Ranma's shoulder, using it to turn the burned girl over onto her back.  
  
Ranma's chest rose and fell shakily with laboured breath. Her frail body  
shivered in the sea breeze, her teeth chattering loudly.   
  
"This can't be," Shampoo murmured, eyes wide in fright. "It's impossible."  
  
The impossible proof, however, lay before her; with every twitch of her  
body, Ranma terrified Shampoo further.  
  
Shampoo's mind boggled as she tried to decide what course of action to  
take. Her train of thought was interrupted, however, as she noticed a  
small red symbol on Ranma's stomach, just above the sword wound. She  
did not recognise it; she did not need to recognise it to feel unsettled  
by it.  
  
Wisps of steam rose slowly from it and as Shampoo lowered her hand toward  
it she could feel an intense heat that threatened to burn her. She   
swallowed nervously and decided to take the girl to one who would know   
what had happened.  
  
Slipping one arm under Ranma's neck, the other under her knees, Shampoo  
lifted the limp body off the ground and started back toward her village,  
Ranma's sword dragging along in the sand behind her with every hurried   
step.  
  
"This can't be good ...." Shampoo uttered, looking down at the smouldering  
body in her arms.  
  
* * *  
  
"After I fell, the first thing I remember is waking up in the Amazon  
village again."  
  
"Let me get this straight. You were shot with an arrow, fell off a cliff,   
and survived," Akane said, flatly. "That's the craziest story I've ever  
heard."  
  
Ranma smiled at her companion. "Well, you're still young yet. You'll hear  
stranger ones, I'm sure."  
  
"You're serious, aren't you?" Akane asked, shaking her head in disbelief.   
"You honestly expect me to believe that?"  
  
A light rustling sound came from the bushes behind Akane; before the Tendo  
girl could even blink, Ranma was standing, sword drawn, peering intently at  
the bushes.  
  
"Get down," she said, stepping past Akane. "Stay behind me."  
  
Akane nodded dumbly, lowering herself closer to the ground as she turned to  
watch Ranma. Her mind was far too busy wondering how Ranma had moved so  
quickly to spend time debating whether or not to follow Ranma's order.  
  
Ranma crouched slightly, staring deeply into the bushes, eyes scanning back  
and forth amongst the foliage. As she caught sight of something moving,  
she slowly and silently slid her sword back into place beneath her cloak.  
Her hand moved slightly toward the bush and then - suddenly, in a flurry of  
red hair and black fabric - darted into and out of the bushes.  
  
Akane jumped slightly at the sudden movement, and stared at Ranma as the  
redheaded girl turned to face her -- holding up a small, furry object. The  
object wriggled violently in Ranma's hand, trying desperately to break   
free.   
  
Akane peered at the furry ball, recognising it as a tanuki. The small  
raccoon dog shivered uncontrollably in Ranma's icy grip as the chill air  
around her leeched away its body warmth.  
  
"Oh! How cute!" Akane exclaimed. Jumping to her feet, she stepped over to  
pet the animal.  
  
The tanuki wriggled against Ranma's hand, trying to escape her chill touch.  
It rubbed itself up against Akane's far warmer hand as she touched it, much  
to Akane's delight. Akane petted the creature happily, cooing gently to  
it as it pressed its head up against her fingers.  
  
Ranma sighed, exasperated, as Akane fawned over the animal.  
  
"We must leave," she said firmly. "Now."  
  
"Why?" Akane asked, looking up from the animal for a moment before   
returning her attention to it. She ruffled the thick, black fur atop its  
head, a little too enthusiastically for the creature's liking. "What an  
adorable little thing you are!"  
  
"Because," Ranma said, pulling the tanuki away from Akane's affectionate  
hands and lowering it to the ground, "there are more dangerous things in  
this forest than tanuki."  
  
The tanuki realised this as well, darting into the bushes and scampering  
away from the humans as fast as it could.  
  
Akane watched the bushes sadly as the sound of the tanuki's retreat faded  
into silence. Sighing, she looked over at Ranma, who was peering up   
between the branches and leaves overhead, at the grey sky above.  
  
"We've spent too long here as it is," Ranma said. "The sun will be coming   
up soon. We should press on. If we leave now, we'll be there by tonight."  
  
"Tonight?" Akane asked, her mood suddenly improving. "Then you can start  
teaching me about these hunters?"  
  
"There are a few other things to be done first," Ranma replied, looking   
over her shoulder at Akane as she stepped toward the edge of the clearing.  
  
"Like what?" Akane asked, stepping after Ranma. "You said you'd teach me!"  
  
"Perhaps we'll start the lessons now," Ranma replied, arching an eyebrow.  
"Patience is the first thing you should learn."  
  
"But-"  
  
"The details will come in time. Don't worry - you won't be bored in the  
meantime."  
  
"What do you mean?" Akane asked, pushing aside a branch as she stepped into  
the forest behind Ranma.  
  
"You'll see," Ranma replied as she stepped around a tree. "Be patient,  
Akane. You'll have your chance to avenge your mother."  
  
"That's all I want," Akane replied, a determined edge to her voice. The  
rumble that her stomach emitted was no less determined. "Although some  
food would be nice."  
  
"I could catch another tanuki, if you're hungry," Ranma offered.  
  
"That's not funny," Akane replied, paling slightly.  
  
Ranma smiled over her shoulder at Akane as she led her young charge into   
the depths of the forest.  
  
Neither noticed the pair of eyes watching them intently from the treetops.  
  
* * *  
  
They're waiting for you. It's time to wake up.  
  
Ranma groaned hoarsely, her throat too dry to form words. Slowly,   
straining as if she were lifting mountains, she managed to force her   
eyelids open. A hazy brown light filled her eyes, stinging them; she   
quickly closed them again and waited a moment before daring to try again.  
  
As she blinked, the haze seemed to coalesce into more solid lines and  
shapes. A searing pain scratched across her face, behind her eyes, and  
she instinctively tried to raise her hand toward the pain. However, all  
she could manage was to raise it slightly before it started to shake   
uncontrollably. Groaning again, she lowered it once more.  
  
A fuzzy shape slid into her view, obscuring the light. A distant voice  
echoed into Ranma's ears from the shadows above.  
  
"Don't try to move."  
  
Grunting in concentration, trying to block out the loud ringing in her   
ears, she willed her eyes to move. Squinting, Ranma watched as the  
fuzziness slowly resolved into a face -- the face of an old woman.  
  
"You," she managed to squeak through her damaged throat, panic seizing her  
heart.   
  
"Stop fidgeting!" Cologne instructed, glaring down at the redheaded girl.   
"It will be a while before you can even move, so you might as well rest for  
now."  
  
Ranma tried to turn her head as Cologne stepped away from the bed and  
disappeared from sight, but found the old woman was right; she could not  
muster the strength.  
  
Her immediate panic faded somewhat as she realised Cologne did not intend  
to kill her; instead her mind began asking just why that was so.  
  
"How curious," came Cologne's voice. "You should be dead."  
  
The shuffling of feet filled Ranma's ears, and Cologne's face moved into  
view once again. The old woman bore a weary expression, dim eyes watching  
Ranma from within sunken eye sockets. She let out a long sigh, and shook  
her head.  
  
Ranma tried to follow Cologne with her eyes as the old woman turned and  
walked away from the bed. Sunlight flooded into the hut as Cologne pulled  
aside the cloth covering that hung across the doorway; Ranma squinted as   
the bright light burned into them, leaving Cologne as a vague silhouette  
against the doorway.  
  
"I know what you're thinking," Cologne added. "We're not going to kill   
you. You might as well just relax and try to get some sleep. I'll be back  
for you later."  
  
* * *  
  
A songbird fluttered effortlessly across the treetops, choosing a sturdy  
branch upon which to land. Letting out a tuneful call, it looked back and  
forth through the forest, anxiously checking for any females who might have  
heard its song.   
  
Two females did indeed hear its call; but as they were of entirely the  
wrong species, the bird merely fluttered its wings in mild irritation and  
swept itself off the branch, soaring once more above the tree line.  
  
Akane heartily munched on one of the many apples she carried as she watched  
the small bird flutter off into the distance. Ranma kept pace alongside  
her, silently mulling over old memories that had lost no clarity or   
intensity through the years.   
  
Finishing one apple, Akane tossed aside the core and ravenously attacked a  
second, biting into the skin with gusto. The loud sounds of apples being  
demolished eventually grew to be too much for Ranma.  
  
"Sorry," Akane said sheepishly, pausing as Ranma peered at her. "I'm just  
so hungry."  
  
"It's all right," Ranma replied, something of a smile coming to her face,  
almost as an afterthought. "I don't mind. I'm glad you like the apples."  
  
"They're delicious!" Akane enthused. "Are you sure you don't want one?"  
  
"No," Ranma replied, shaking her head. "I'm not hungry."  
  
"No sleep, no food," Akane observed. "Aren't you tired?"  
  
"Not really," Ranma replied with a barely noticeable shrug.  
  
"Travelling around a lot must make you pretty tough," Akane commented.  
"And you've been travelling around for ... what?"  
  
Akane looked over at her travelling companion, who seemed to have sunk  
back into herself, eyes staring blankly off into the far distance. Akane  
watched Ranma for a moment, wondering how the girl held herself so still;  
somehow Ranma seemed to glide across the ground without moving her feet,   
her cloak making no sound as it was drawn across the grass.   
  
If it weren't for the occasional puff of misty breath that rose from  
Ranma's mouth, Akane decided the cloaked girl could very well be mistaken   
for a statue.  
  
Sighing, Akane abandoned hope of getting an answer, and returned her   
attention to her apple.   
  
The pair cleared a small, grassy rise, and as Akane peered beyond the   
slight elevation, she was stunned by the lush green valley that extended   
off into the distance, between two imposing mountains.  
  
"Oh, it's amazing," she breathed, taking in the sight of the deep, moist  
forest that blanketed the valley floor, the lush green vegetation a sharp  
contrast to the jagged mountains that framed it.  
  
Coming to a stop near a tree trunk, Akane leaned up against it and took  
a moment to appreciate the majestic beauty of the landscape before her, her  
eyes lost amongst the wonder of it all.  
  
Ranma stopped a few paces down the hill toward the valley, and turned to   
look back at the Tendo girl.  
  
"Are you tired?" she asked, looking around for a place to rest.  
  
"No, I just..." Akane began, looking down at Ranma for a moment, "I just  
haven't seen anything like this before. I mean, I've seen photos, but  
never...."  
  
"It is a beautiful place," Ranma agreed at length, looking back to the  
valley herself.  
  
Akane nodded silently, watching a small flock of birds gracefully drifting  
across the valley below.   
  
"Come," Ranma said, gesturing toward the valley. "We should go. The   
forest may be beautiful, but that makes it no less dangerous to be   
wandering through at night."  
  
With another nod, Akane stepped away from the tree and started down the  
hill, a little behind Ranma. Something in Ranma's tone told her to believe  
that warning.  
  
* * *  
  
Light.  
  
"He's stronger than I thought."  
  
"So he's alive?"  
  
"Barely - he should be dead. He must have a strong will to have survived  
that fall."  
  
"And now he's ...."  
  
"Never mind that, child. If he is strong, he'll adapt."  
  
"This is all my fault. I'm sorry, Great-Grandmother."  
  
"You did what you had to. You will be punished for your failure, and   
through it you will become a stronger warrior."  
  
"I ... understand. How will I be punished?"  
  
"You will take care of him. You'll be his guide, and show him the Amazons  
mean him no harm."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Shampoo, you must understand. We must show him we mean him no harm. We  
-must- ally ourselves with him. You must show him, Shampoo, that we are   
not his enemies."  
  
"How can I show him that? I'm the one who caused all of this ...."  
  
"Consider that your punishment. You dishonoured yourself in battle; prove  
your honour to that boy and you will redeem yourself."  
  
Ranma groaned, sweat rolling from her forehead as the echoed voices of her  
captors washed up on the shore of her consciousness, only to be swept away  
again moments later by a wave of dizziness.   
  
Feeling her grip upon reality wavering, Ranma was unable to stop herself   
from tumbling back down into the thick blackness below her, the echoing   
voices chasing her back into the dark, empty ocean.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane yawned, stretching her arms above her head as the daylight slowly  
drained from the valley. The chirping of insects became louder with every  
passing moment; she found herself swatting the small bugs away with  
irritating frequency. The fact that Ranma remained completely unmolested  
by the insect life did not improve her mood.  
  
"Why don't these stupid bugs bother you?" she complained.  
  
"They stay away from me," Ranma answered, without looking back. "They   
don't like the cold."  
  
"Neither do I," Akane replied, folding her arms in front of herself and   
rubbing her upper arms for warmth. The humid forest air formed a thin,  
chilled mist around Ranma, the wispy fog circling endlessly around her.  
"Why's it always so cold around you?"  
  
Ranma raised one arm, a small hand emerging from beneath the folds of her  
cloak. Raising her index finger, she waggled it back and forth slightly.  
  
"It's a secret."  
  
"I had a feeling you'd say that," Akane sighed. "Everything's a secret  
with you."  
  
"All in good time, Akane," Ranma replied, arm vanishing beneath the pitch  
black fabric of the cloak. "All in good time."  
  
"Speaking of time," Akane said, wary of the fading light around them, "how  
much longer will this trip take?"  
  
"We're nearly there," Ranma replied, nodding her head slightly in a gesture  
toward the forest before them. "Just a little further, at the base of that  
mountain."  
  
"Really?" Akane asked, a sudden excitement in her voice. To have an   
actual, tangible destination to strive for was infinitely more comforting  
than simply wandering for the sake of wandering, no matter how vague the  
description.  
  
Ranma nodded.   
  
Akane smiled, happy for the first time in a few hours, and strode forward  
with a newfound energy. The mossy ground, dank air, and abundant insects  
seemed like minor problems to her now that she had a goal to shoot for,  
even if it were only arriving at their destination.   
  
She was brought to a halt suddenly as Ranma extended an arm outwards,  
across Akane's chest, holding her back.  
  
"What--"  
  
"Shh!" Ranma hissed, before silently moving closer to Akane. "I can hear  
something."  
  
Akane blinked, looking around at the trees encircling them. She could  
hear nothing other than the buzzing of insects that had filled her ears  
for far too long, and the trickle of water from the many small streams  
that ran down from the mountains.  
  
Looking over at Ranma, Akane saw a tense expression on the redheaded girl's  
face, head slowly turning as Ranma scanned the surrounding forest for the  
source of the noise.   
  
A silence descended upon them for just a moment, Akane becoming strongly  
aware of the sound of her own heartbeat. Suddenly, she was surrounded by  
impenetrable blackness, her screams silenced by the paralysing cold that  
gripped her whole body.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma pulled her cloak tightly around Akane and yanked her aside moments   
before the source of her suspicion landed where the Tendo girl had been   
standing. Backing off, Ranma snarled, releasing a shivering Akane from the  
protection of her cloak.  
  
Akane, gasping for air, slumped to the ground near Ranma's feet.  
  
Ranma stepped away from Akane slightly, giving her companion a chance to  
recover. Narrowing her eyes, she glared intently at the girl standing   
before her with a sword already drawn.  
  
The girl was clad in black, with several small daggers strapped across her  
chest in a bandolier. A scabbard hung loosely from her belt, swaying back  
and forth slightly. On the opposite side of the scabbard hung several  
small pouches, each tied closed with a small, frayed piece of string.  
  
Ranma snarled, having long ago recognised her assailant. Her suspicions  
were only confirmed as the girl stepped out from the shadows, into a small  
shaft of light cast down by the fading sun.   
  
Hard eyes burned into Ranma from beneath dark brown hair, eyes that spared   
only a momentary glance for Akane.  
  
"I see you've found another apprentice," spoke the girl in an even tone.  
  
"Touch her," Ranma warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl, "and  
I'll tear out your heart, Ukyo."  
  
* * *  
  
I can feel you inside me ... what are you?  
  
I am you, and you are me. We are one and the same.  
  
That doesn't make any sense!  
  
Just because you don't understand doesn't make it untrue.  
  
Who ARE you? What's your name? Do you even have a name?  
  
My name is Ranma Saotome.  
  
It is not! Don't lie to me!  
  
I'm not lying. That's the point, boy.  
  
I don't understand ....  
  
You will. Now wake up; you're making her worry about you.  
  
Who?  
  
* * *  
  
The faint crackling of kindling burning on an open fire tugged at Ranma's  
mind, lending her support to cling onto as she climbed desperately from the  
bottomless pit of unconsciousness. She could feel the darkness reaching  
up to take her again; panic drove her upwards ever faster.  
  
The tighter she clung to the faint sound, the louder it got, and soon  
other sounds joined it -- the distant howling of wind, the chirping of   
insects. Gradually the darkness fell back, leaving Ranma on the threshold  
of the light above.   
  
Reaching high, she brushed her fingers against it for a moment; straining  
higher, she took hold of it with her hand. As she tightened her grasp upon  
it, the darkness fell away behind her, leaving her surrounded in light.  
  
Light.  
  
Her eyes opened slowly, a dull pounding in her head keeping her from  
opening them fully. The view was familiar; the same roof, the same faint  
orange light flickering against it.   
  
Blinking a few times to try and clear her eyes, Ranma tried to sit up,  
wondering how long she had been asleep for. It felt like she had slept  
only a couple of hours; she was still exhausted. A sharp pain in her   
stomach halted her rise and sent her plunging straight back down to the  
bed. Groaning, she lifted one hand and brought it gingerly to the  
source of the pain.  
  
Her hand glided over her smooth stomach, her fingertips bumping up against  
what felt like a scar; tilting her head, she tried to look down at herself.  
It was at that moment that a realisation dawned upon her.  
  
Breasts.  
  
She had breasts.   
  
Again.  
  
She screamed, a piercing scream that sent agonising spikes of pain lancing  
through her skull; the scream was cut short as she grabbed at her head,  
gritting her teeth through the resonating pain that bounced back and forth  
within her mind.  
  
"Owwww ..." she croaked faintly, her throat hoarse.  
  
Someone stirred alongside her; waiting for the pain to fade, Ranma  
eventually tried turning her head to catch a glimpse of the person who was  
with her. All she managed to make out was a fuzzy purple outline.  
  
"You ..." she breathed, a powerful feeling of anger seeping into her heart,  
washing away all other thoughts.  
  
"You're awake," Shampoo observed, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she stood.  
"Thank the gods; I thought you were going to die."  
  
"You ..." Ranma repeated, staring hotly at the girl as she moved into view.  
  
"I've been sitting here for a week," Shampoo explained, stepping closer,  
"waiting for you to wake up. I've been ... worried about you."  
  
"You ..." Ranma chanted, disbelieving her eyes as her father's killer  
stepped up beside the bed.  
  
"I--" Shampoo began, but was cut off as Ranma's hand, of its own accord,  
flung itself at her throat, choking her into silence as it gripped her neck  
with all Ranma's strength.  
  
"You killed my father!" Ranma gasped through her singed throat, spittle  
flying from her mouth as she shook with unbridled rage. "You killed my  
father!"  
  
"It was ... self defence!" Shampoo choked, her hands desperately gripping  
Ranma's, trying to loose the vice-like grip that held her.  
  
"You murdered him! He was my father!"  
  
"I'm ... sorry!" Shampoo sobbed between heaving gasps for air, hot tears of  
pain and regret streaming down her cheeks and over Ranma's hand. "I ...   
had no choice ...."  
  
Ranma cried out in fury, squeezing ever tighter around Shampoo's fragile  
neck. She could feel Shampoo's pounding pulse beneath her sweat-soaked   
skin, the desperate attempts to breathe through a windpipe that was rapidly  
being crushed.  
  
"Kill me now," Shampoo choked, letting her eyes close, "if that ... is  
what you wish. My life is ... in your hands; take it ... if you will."  
  
Shampoo lowered her hands from her neck, letting her body go limp as she  
slowed her breathing.  
  
Ranma felt the weight of the Amazon pressing down on her arms and stared  
at the pale, tear-streaked face of her victim. The anger screamed from  
within her, burning through her whole body; but within that unbearable  
din she made out two voices.  
  
I understand perfectly. This blade will destroy you and your entire   
village.  
  
I don't want to kill you. I'm here for the sword.   
  
Eyes widening, Ranma released her grip upon Shampoo's throat; Shampoo  
crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.  
  
"I'm not gonna kill you," Ranma said, slowly lowering her arm once more.  
Closing her eyes, she felt the violent waves of anger subsiding; as calm  
stillness returned to her mind once more, she opened them again.  
  
Shampoo coughed, holding her throat as she raised herself to her hands and   
knees. She held herself there, making no attempt to stand.  
  
"Why am I here?" Ranma asked, her voice quiet but steady.   
  
"I ... found you on the beach," Shampoo answered, still sobbing. "You were  
...."  
  
"Burning..." Ranma whispered, staring blankly ahead. Images flashed   
through her mind in a blur; seared flesh, scorching flames, endless torment  
and suffering. Her body shook with the imagined impact of a wall of water,  
bringing with it blissful freezing cold, sweet annihilation. Murky black  
oblivion swept her downwards and from the depths something rose to greet  
her--  
  
As quickly as they came, the images vanished, leaving Ranma panting on the  
bed. Shampoo knelt silently beside her now, watching with morbid   
fascination.  
  
"I found you lying there ... alive," Shampoo recalled, doubting her own  
words. "I brought you here and you've been in bed for a week since."  
  
"Why didn't you just take the sword and kill me?" Ranma asked, her gaze  
fixed firmly on the roof, her tone challenging.  
  
"I am not a thief," Shampoo said simply, looking down at the ground.  
  
"But you -are- a murderer," Ranma replied in an even tone. It was not an  
accusation; it was a statement of fact.  
  
"Yes," Shampoo admitted in despair, eyes moist. "I am a murderer. I  
killed your father.  
  
"I'm sorry," Shampoo whispered, "I didn't want to kill anyone ...."  
  
"Shampoo," came another voice, "leave us. I wish to speak with Ranma."  
  
Shampoo nodded, fighting back tears, quickly standing and rushing past  
Cologne.  
  
Cologne stepped past her great-granddaughter as she dashed out of the hut.  
Shaking her head sadly, Cologne hobbled over toward Ranma.  
  
"She is not yet a warrior, that one," she commented to herself, leaning on  
her staff as she neared Ranma's bed.  
  
"Because she can't cope with killing innocent people?" Ranma asked   
bitterly, matching eyes with the old woman.  
  
"The decision to deal out death is not one to be taken lightly," Cologne  
said, eyes not leaving Ranma's. "The ability to make that decision and   
live with the consequences is the mark of a warrior."  
  
"Warriors don't have to kill," Ranma shot back, "only murderers do."  
  
Cologne sighed, and rested heavily on her staff.  
  
"We didn't want to kill you, or your father. We just wanted to take the   
sword from you," Cologne explained. "You didn't understand its power, and  
you still don't. It's dangerous in your hands. If you had only listened to  
reason and given us the sword--"  
  
"Listened to reason?! You were the ones who murdered my father, don't talk  
to me about listening to reason!"  
  
"It was your father who struck first," Cologne pointed out. "We were   
acting in self defence."  
  
Ranma opened her mouth to yell her reply, but stopped short as she realised  
she did not have one. What Cologne had said was true; it was her father   
who attacked first.  
  
"Your father killed three of my sisters," Cologne continued, "because he  
didn't understand the power of that sword. If Shampoo had not stopped you,  
you would have killed her."  
  
"I ..." Ranma tried, but the words died in her throat. It was the truth;  
she would have killed Shampoo without a second thought.  
  
"We have both suffered losses; you have lost your father, I have lost my  
sisters. There must be no more bloodshed."  
  
"What now, then? You keep me prisoner here?" Ranma asked suspiciously.  
She did not trust the old woman's offer in the slightest.  
  
"We will keep you here, yes," Cologne replied, "while we nurse you back to  
health. After that, you shall be free to go."  
  
"Why didn't you just let me die?"  
  
"Should we have?"  
  
"Well, I ...."  
  
"We brought you back," Cologne said, "because it was the right thing to   
do. It was your father who wronged us; he paid the price. You were just  
a bystander."  
  
"Lucky me," Ranma sighed, feeling not at all lucky. She felt entirely  
lost, utterly alone. For the first time in her life, she did not have  
her father to guide her. However misdirected her father's guidance was, it  
was better than ... this.  
  
"I grieve for your loss," Cologne said softly, placing a hand on Ranma's  
shoulder. "I am sorry your father died."  
  
"I'm ... sorry, for what he did," Ranma replied quietly. "If I'd known   
what he was going to do ...."  
  
"Don't regret, Ranma," Cologne advised, squeezing Ranma's shoulder gently.  
"Our actions define us as individuals. You did what you did because of who  
you are. That is not something to regret."  
  
"Then Pops is dead because of who I am," Ranma muttered.  
  
"No; your father is dead because of who he was."  
  
"And now he's lying in the forest. He's probably been eaten by an animal,  
or something ...."  
  
"Not quite," Cologne replied.  
  
* * *  
  
"Pops ...."  
  
Ranma leaned heavily on Shampoo's shoulders, her limbs numb and lifeless;  
the Amazon girl supported her as she looked down at the small grave. Tears  
ran slowly down her cheeks, dripping onto Shampoo's arm.  
  
"We buried him here," Cologne explained, gesturing toward the small mound  
of earth, "beside the three he killed. He defeated Amazons in battle, that  
is quite an achievement for an outsider."  
  
"Achievement?" Ranma sobbed quietly.  
  
"He bested our fighters in combat; few can say that. He shall be   
remembered as ... a formidable challenge."  
  
"I ..." Ranma tried, but words failed to come to her mouth. She forced  
herself to turn - Shampoo got the hint, and turned Ranma's limp body  
slightly to face Cologne.  
  
Ranma looked down at the old woman, tears in her eyes, and managed a small  
smile.  
  
"Thank you, Cologne."  
  
Cologne matched Ranma's eyes with her own, and nodded silently. Nothing  
more needed to be said. She turned from the graves and started back toward  
the village huts. Shampoo followed, carrying Ranma with her.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma slurped at the vegetable stew with concealed enthusiasm; her appetite  
had returned and she was very happy to have a meal in her belly again, but  
she did not wish the Amazons to think she was letting down her guard. So  
it was with a neutral face that she ate the stew, at a slow enough pace to  
not appear as hungry as she actually was.  
  
She had been bedridden for two weeks now, and her Amazon captors had been  
nothing if not hospitable. Considering her father had felled three of the  
villagers, she was amazed at their friendliness. They seemed to have   
accepted her as one of their own in the short time she had been with them.  
  
She had seen several villagers bringing in food and wood for the fire, but  
the one who was always present was Shampoo, the very Amazon who had nearly  
killed her. She was quiet, saying very little if anything at all; she  
had the habit of never quite meeting Ranma's eyes with her own during the  
sparse conversations they had. For the most part, Shampoo asked Ranma if  
she would like some food, Ranma replied, and that was the end of it.  
  
The lack of conversation and physical movement lead Ranma's mind to wander  
far and wide. The return of her female form was a thought that occupied   
her mind continually; a strong source of frustration for her.  
  
Shampoo had explained that the hot water was in fact only a temporary cure,  
resulting in an angry outburst from Ranma that left the Amazon in shaky   
silence for two days.  
  
She had tried once to upend a steaming bowl of stew over herself, but the  
ever present Shampoo thwarted that plan. Without any other source of hot  
water, Ranma found herself trapped in the female body she was beginning to  
despise.  
  
Repeated requests for hot water were made to both Shampoo and Cologne on  
the occasions the matriarch visited, but all were denied. No reason was  
ever given; the request was simply met with a unilateral 'no'.  
  
She guessed it was something to do with the seeming absence of men from the  
village.  
  
When she was not quietly stewing over her female form, Ranma found her  
thoughts returning to her father and the promise she had made to him before  
he died.   
  
Her father had always been something of a coward; all talk and no   
substance. That was not to say he was unskilled as a martial artist - he  
was indeed very talented - but the talent was mostly theoretical. Genma  
did not seem inclined to fight for fighting's sake, and always avoided  
confrontation where possible.  
  
Ranma was mystified by the sudden change in her father. It was as though  
he suddenly became a different person on that fateful day.  
  
Although ....  
  
As Ranma thought more about it, she came to realise that the change had not  
been sudden at all. Genma had been far more irritable for the past few  
months; comments that once bounced off him would irritate him greatly. He  
became far more dedicated to the art, to the point of dragging Ranma to the  
cursed springs of Jusenkyo for further training.  
  
And then, there was the sword.  
  
Genma did not carry much in the way of material possessions. He had a   
strong thirst for money; but that was motivated more by a desire to put  
food and wine in his belly than to purchase material possessions. Indeed,  
other than the clothing on his back, Genma had never carried much.  
  
Except the sword.  
  
Genma was always strongly protective of the sword, explaining at length to  
Ranma that it was a family heirloom and as such needed to be taken care of.  
The sword was never used in actual combat; Ranma had assumed that Genma  
simply did not want to damage the blade.  
  
However, Genma began to use the sword during their training sessions,  
introducing it as 'Garyoutensei', and explaining that Ranma would need to  
become familiar with it.  
  
Ranma had been unsure why it was so important to train with the sword;   
Genma had until that point been adamant that relying upon a weapon was a  
weakness that could be exploited.   
  
However, grateful for any martial instruction, Ranma listened to Genma's  
explanations of basic swordplay. She sparred against her father, using a  
metal blade against Garyoutensei.   
  
Her skills with the blade were very rudimentary, but she quickly got the  
hang of the fundamentals.   
  
She had never actually held Garyoutensei; her father insisted that she  
would hold it when it belonged to her. The battle with Shampoo was the  
first time Ranma had actually taken ahold of the sword's handle, but even  
from that brief contact she had felt the heat inside--  
  
"Fascinating weapon, is it not?"  
  
Ranma looked up from the pale depths of her blade and caught sight of  
Cologne standing near the doorway of the hut.   
  
"It does not merely bring death; it brings utter destruction. It is a  
weapon of immense power."  
  
"I know," Ranma replied quietly, returning her gaze to the weapon.  
  
"You felt that power, didn't you?" Cologne asked, stepping closer. "When  
you touched it. Raw power, so deep and profound it almost feels like a  
living being.  
  
"Power that could tear down the heavens," continued Cologne, stepping  
ever closer. "Power beyond your imagination; power beyond this world."  
  
"I felt it," Ranma quietly admitted, eyes lost in the faintly pulsing  
glow emanating from the sword.  
  
"The legend says that where a normal sword cuts only flesh and bone, a  
dragon's tooth cuts through the very essence of its victims, slicing the   
spirit form as easily as the physical body. It cuts beyond the world we  
live in, through the dual worlds of chaos and harmony, through the living  
and the dead. It's a power you cannot begin to understand, let alone   
control.  
  
"I ..." Ranma murmured, Cologne's voice echoing in her mind.  
  
"Give me the sword, Ranma," Cologne said. "I can seal it; keep it out of  
human hands. It does not belong to this world."  
  
Ranma stared deep into the milky blade, losing herself in the seemingly  
infinite expanse of purest white light, with just the faintest tinge of  
red--  
  
The warmth of Cologne's hand on hers snapped Ranma out of her daydream; she  
glanced up at the old woman, who was gently squeezing her sword hand.  
  
"Give me the sword, Ranma Saotome," she intoned, looking intently at Ranma.  
"Try to control it. Let it go."  
  
"What?" Ranma asked, looking up at Cologne. "No, I'm not giving my sword   
to you."  
  
"Because you don't want to, or because you can't?"  
  
"Of course I can!"  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"Fine!"  
  
Ranma tried to loose her grip upon the sword but found herself unable to do  
so. She became suddenly aware that her hand was straining, knuckles white  
with the pressure she exerted upon the handle, gripping it as tightly as  
possible.  
  
"I ... can't," she whispered softly, willing her hand to relinquish its  
grip. Her muscles strained, her arm shook as she tried to let go. A thin  
sheen of sweat stained her forehead as she pushed herself, fighting to  
release the weapon.  
  
Cologne gently closed her hand around the handle, slowly but surely, taking  
a firm grip near Ranma's trembling hand.  
  
"That's it ..." she encouraged, placing her other hand on Ranma's shoulder,  
pressing down gently on the small girl's frame. "Now ...."  
  
Cologne gripped the handle and yanked, shoving downwards on Ranma's   
shoulder at the same moment, tugging the sword with great difficulty   
from Ranma's determined grasp. She staggered backwards with the blade,  
which almost immediately lost its radiant white aura.  
  
Ranma contorted on the bed, shaking violently as her hand tensed and   
relaxed uncontrollably, trying to grip a sword that was not there.  
  
Cologne, eyes wide, fearfully backed away; with every step she took, the  
blade grew dimmer. Ranma's shaking increased, small grunts of pain   
escaping her lips as she struggled to control her body.  
  
"The sword," she choked, wrenching her head to face Cologne, "give it   
back ... please ...."  
  
Cologne looked down at the sword, now a dull grey, and back at the girl who  
lay choking for breath before her.  
  
"It can't be ...."  
  
Ranma shook violently on the bed, her lips beginning to turn blue, her  
panicked eyes locked on Cologne.  
  
Cologne swallowed hard, staring at the obsidian blade; frowning deeply, she  
looked over at Ranma once more. She had the sword now, but she could not  
bring herself to take it from Ranma.  
  
Shaking slightly, she swallowed and forced herself to step toward Ranma,   
unable to ignore the helpless, agonised look in Ranma's eyes.  
  
"Damn you," she whispered as she slowly lowered the sword into Ranma's  
clutching hand. "You should have died when you had the chance."  
  
Ranma's hand clumsily closed around the sword's handle; immediately the  
sword flared back to life, the radiant white light erupting from the deep  
black depths of the blade.  
  
Ranma gasped for air, sucking in an enormous breath; the spasms subsided,  
leaving her dazed, motionless but for the motions of her chest as her  
breathing gradually returned to normal.  
  
"What did you do to me!?" Ranma demanded, her tone dangerous, her face  
reddening with each breath.  
  
"I didn't do anything," Cologne replied, sadness in her eyes. "It was the  
sword. I had hoped it wouldn't have ...."  
  
"The sword?" Ranma asked, confusion displacing her anger.  
  
"Yes," Cologne said with a nod. "This will complicate matters no end."  
  
"Huh?" Ranma asked, eyes wide. "What do you mean, complicate? You nearly  
killed me, again!"  
  
Cologne frowned, mulling over her thoughts for a moment.   
  
"How best to put it?" she wondered to herself with a sigh. She turned away  
from Ranma and lowered herself gently to sit at the end of the bed. She  
leaned forward against her stick, staring intently into the ground.  
  
"If you stab someone," she continued at length, "they start to bleed, yes?"  
  
"Yeah," Ranma nodded, "of course."  
  
"If you pull the blade from their body, the bleeding is much worse than if  
the blade is left inside the body. The blade itself contains the bleeding,  
to a degree."  
  
"I guess," Ranma agreed, confusion growing by the minute. "I dunno, I've  
never really stabbed anyone ...."  
  
"I think it is the same sort of situation here, child. The blade must have  
pierced your very spirit."  
  
"Huh?" Ranma asked, bewildered. "My spirit?"  
  
"Yes," Cologne nodded. "Everyone has a spirit, it's what binds them to the  
world. When you die, your spirit leaves your body and you leave this  
world. Surely you must have some idea of what I'm saying?"  
  
"I guess," Ranma tentatively agreed, "I never really learned much except  
martial arts ...."  
  
"When the sword is pulled away from your spirit, it 'bleeds', and you start   
to die; to drift away from this world. When I returned the sword, it  
sealed the hole, so to speak, so you stopped dying. Do you understand?"  
  
"How do you know all of this?" Ranma asked, struggling to absorb the   
information.  
  
"When you've been around as long as I have, you learn things about the  
world," Cologne replied.  
  
"I don't know if I believe--"  
  
"The proof is before you; I took the sword away, you began to die. I  
returned it, you recovered. Believe or don't believe, it won't change what  
happened, now, will it?"  
  
"I suppose," Ranma reluctantly agreed. "What does this all mean?"  
  
"For now," Cologne said, standing and stepping away from the bed. She   
hobbled over toward the door, "You get to keep your sword."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma sat quietly on a grassy verge with Cologne nearby. The sun bathed  
the village in a gentle warmth that was maintained by a warm breeze that  
gusted every few moments, sending ripples through the blades of grass.  
  
It felt good to be in the sun, and Ranma was enjoying her first day out of  
bed in a long time. She was deathly white, but not as thin as she had   
been in the beginning; the stew she had been eating in increasing   
quantities had made sure of that.  
  
The warmth was a sharp contrast to the icy cold she had felt for the past  
week; after her fever had broken, she spent most of her time shivering.   
Now, with the gentle rays of the sun, she felt a soothing heat inside her  
body that brought with it a sense of wellbeing.  
  
She did not know why, but she did not feel as angry these days. Perhaps it  
was the care with which the Amazon women looked after her, perhaps it was  
her simply moving on after the tragedy of her father's death.  
  
The more she thought about her father, the more she realised that the   
Amazons had acted only in self defence. She did not forgive them. No, she  
could never forgive them; but she could understand what they had done.  
  
Shampoo practiced before them, moving through a slow series of motions with  
her sword. Her sword arced lazily through the air with no real force   
behind it; the purpose of her exercise seemed to Ranma to be balance and  
control rather than purely attacking technique.  
  
"She's sloppy," Ranma commented, watching Shampoo overbalance slightly on  
a turn and nearly fall.  
  
"She's distracted," Cologne replied.  
  
"Distractions don't matter," Ranma retorted, shaking her head slightly,  
"not when you're alone with the art."  
  
"Mm," Cologne agreed. "You're right. She's young; she hasn't yet reached  
her potential."  
  
"She could do a lot better," Ranma said.  
  
"You seem very well versed in the martial arts for someone so young,"   
Cologne commented, looking quizzically over at the redheaded girl.  
  
"I had a ... dedicated ... teacher," came the reply with a shrug of her  
shoulders. "I studied the art all my life."  
  
"A commendable pursuit," Cologne noted, "although a little narrow-minded."  
  
"Maybe," Ranma conceded with another shrug. Narrowing her eyes a little,  
she watched Shampoo more closely. "I don't get why she's so   
distracted."  
  
"Because of you, child."  
  
"Me?" Ranma asked, looking across at the old woman.  
  
"She's terrified of you. Can't you see it in her eyes?"  
  
"I suppose she has reason to be," Ranma sighed. "I did try to kill her."  
  
"It's not just that. She ...."  
  
"She what?"  
  
"She is not dealing very well with the consequences of her actions,"   
Cologne explained. "She is letting the guilt destroy her. She was crying  
for most of the first week you were here; she still cries herself to sleep  
every night. She doesn't want anyone to know, but ... she's questioning  
herself as a warrior. I think she wants to leave the tribe."  
  
"Can she even do that?" Ranma asked.  
  
"If she wants to," Cologne replied. "She would be disgraced and never  
allowed to return to this place."  
  
Ranma looked at the old woman, eyes wide.  
  
"She would lose her family, her home, everything. That she is even  
considering it shows how much this has harmed her. I shouldn't have pushed  
her so hard ...."  
  
"I ... I'd never thought of that," Ranma said quietly. "I'd been thinking  
of Pops and me, I ...."  
  
"Of course you were," Cologne said. "You lost your father, your teacher.  
Shampoo ... Shampoo has lost herself.   
  
"She thinks you're a demon," Cologne added, glancing over toward   
Shampoo. "She thinks you've come from the spirit world to torment her  
for murdering you. She's waiting for you to kill her."  
  
"Maybe she's right," Ranma wondered, squeezing a fist tightly closed,  
wondering at the clammy feel of her own skin. "I don't seem to be doing  
anything but making her miserable. I'm still not sure why you're taking  
care of me."  
  
"Perhaps she is right," Cologne admitted. "We're taking care of you   
because Shampoo wants to prove herself to you. She wants to redeem   
herself in your eyes and earn your forgiveness. I don't think she really   
wants to die."  
  
"She killed my father. If she expects me to forgive her, she's an idiot."  
  
Cologne watched Shampoo for a moment, sighing as the girl made another  
mistake. Shaking her head slightly, she looked over at Ranma, who was   
relaxing on the grass, eyes closed.   
  
Cologne's eyes fixed upon Ranma's sword, which now lay safe within a   
scabbard.  
  
You really have no idea, Cologne thought. No idea at all.  
  
Shampoo swung her sword in a quick overhead slash, bringing the tip of the  
blade down to touch the dirt near her feet. She was not happy with her  
performance; she decided to repeat the exercise. Raising her head, she  
prepared herself for the challenge.  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo looked up from the ground, the tip of her sword pressing gently into  
the grassy earth beneath her.  
  
"Don't insult me, monster," Ukyo spat, raising her blade to point at Ranma.  
"I have no concern for your student. I come for you, and you alone."  
  
"Are you all right?" Ranma asked Akane, peering sideways to catch a glimpse  
of the Tendo girl struggling to breathe.  
  
"Yeah," Akane coughed, "but ... don't ever do that again."  
  
"I'm sorry, I had no choice," Ranma apologised, staring daggers at Ukyo.  
"She would have killed you if I hadn't pulled you aside."  
  
"I'll cut that lying tongue from your mouth," Ukyo fumed.   
  
"Will you ever leave me alone?" Ranma asked, tiredly. "You can't defeat  
me."  
  
"I'll follow you to the ends of the earth!" Ukyo declared, "I'll never rest  
until I've avenged my mother. I will have my revenge!"  
  
"Ranma?" Akane asked, looking at her, then at Ukyo.  
  
"Stay back, Akane," Ranma replied, eyes not leaving Ukyo's form. "This is  
not your fight."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Don't argue!" Lowering herself into a ready stance, Ranma raised her   
sword across herself in a defensive posture. "Come and get me, Ukyo."  
  
Ukyo nodded almost imperceptibly and, as Akane shuffled backwards against  
the trunk of a tree, charged toward Ranma.  
  
Ranma stood motionless as Ukyo hurtled toward her, sword flying through the  
air; at the last moment, she flicked her wrist, raising Garyoutensei to   
deflect the blow.   
  
Ukyo's metal sword glanced off the hot white blade, sliding along its  
length, sending Ukyo stumbling off to one side.  
  
Ranma twirled silently, following Ukyo's motion with her body, and shoved  
the other girl with an elbow to her back, sending Ukyo barreling toward  
a tree.  
  
Ukyo raised her arms and slammed into the tree, letting her forearms soften  
the impact. Growling, she pushed herself off the tree and whirled to face  
Ranma once again.  
  
"Lesson one," Ranma called in Akane's direction. "Don't overextend   
yourself; you'll lose your balance and end up head butting a tree."  
  
"Uh," Akane muttered, taken by surprise, "o-okay ...."  
  
"Don't mock me!" Ukyo raged, leaping toward Ranma. "How dare you!"  
  
"Lesson two," Ranma repeated, deflecting Ukyo's wild attack once more,  
matching a furious flurry of blows with expertly timed parries and blocks.  
"Don't let your emotions rule your body.  
  
"If you do," Ranma continued, ducking below a high swing; she moved forward  
beneath Ukyo's extended arms and punched her opponent in the stomach,  
sending the girl staggering backwards. "You'll just make mistakes."  
  
"You dare to turn our duel into a lesson?!" Ukyo wheezed, furious beyond   
all reason. "DIE!"  
  
Ranma planted a foot behind herself, bracing against the onslaught of  
powerful slashes from Ukyo.   
  
Blow met counterblow, attack met counterattack; Akane struggled to keep up  
with the blurred shapes that were the two swords.   
  
Clanging sounds filled the forest with each powerful collision of swords,  
Ranma finding herself being pushed back by the sheer power of her   
opponent's strikes. Ukyo's anger drove her onwards, her rage giving her  
a strength and speed that Ranma had not expected.  
  
An overhead chop was barely blocked, Garyoutensei holding Ukyo's sword at  
bay just above Ranma's forehead. Ranma focussed her eyes on the blade, but   
immediately realised this was a mistake. She felt Ukyo's movement, but by  
then it was too late; her opponent's free hand sailed through the air and  
smashed powerfully into Ranma's jaw in a brutal uppercut, sending Ranma's  
head flying back.  
  
"Ranma!" Akane called, jumping to her feet. She was too far away to help;  
all she could do was watch as Ukyo brought her sword back quickly, swinging  
it in almost a complete circle. The blade swung over Ukyo's head, behind  
her back, and was brought up with intense force into Ranma's stomach.  
  
Akane's eyes widened in silent horror as the tip of Ukyo's sword pierced   
Ranma's cloak, silky ripples running through the material as the metal   
drove deep into it.  
  
Ranma cried out in surprise, Garyoutensei flying from her grip and   
embedding itself halfway into the ground. Her head drooped forward,  
surprise in her eyes as she looked at Ukyo's face, a face bearing the  
ultimate satisfaction; the satisfaction of a lifetime dream being realised.  
  
"Lesson three," Ukyo growled, eyes intently locked upon Ranma's. "Don't   
piss Ukyo Kuonji off."  
  
Ranma choked, blood spurting from her mouth as she slumped to her knees.  
Ukyo watched her fall, taking a step back to watch the collapse.  
  
Ranma toppled backwards, landing limply on the ground with a dull thud;   
vacant eyes stared at the sky as a pool of blood began to form around her,  
Ukyo's sword still protruding from her stomach.  
  
"I've done it, Mother!" she cried, throwing her head back and calling to  
the heavens above. "I've finally done it!"  
  
Akane's scream brought Ukyo's attention back to Earth but not in time to  
avoid the fist that slammed into her face.   
  
Ukyo stumbled back, grabbing her nose as blood started to stream over her  
mouth. Crying out in pain, she snarled angrily at Akane.  
  
"You killed her!" Akane cried, apocalyptic anger radiating from her body.  
"I'll make you pay!"  
  
"My fight isn't with you," Ukyo replied, taking a step backwards. "I've  
done what I came to do."  
  
"Yeah, well," Akane countered, lowering herself into a fighting stance,  
"your fight is with me now!"  
  
"If you wish to share in your master's fate," Ukyo said, turning away from  
Akane, "I suggest you start training. I won't kill a defenseless person.  
Unlike your master, I have principles."  
  
"Why, you ..." Akane seethed, and threw a punch at the back of Ukyo's head.  
  
Ukyo was long gone by the time Akane's fist was even halfway toward her,   
leaping gracefully through the air. She landed softly in a tree branch   
before launching herself over the treetops and out of sight.   
  
"Damn you!" Akane cried, and rushed forward to give chase.  
  
"Akane ... let her go ...."  
  
Akane whirled around at the sound of Ranma's voice, abandoning the chase to  
rush to Ranma's side. She threw herself to her knees by Ranma's head; knee  
deep in Ranma's warm blood, but far too upset to care.  
  
"Ranma," she said, taking Ranma's head into her lap, "I can't believe you  
lost ...."  
  
"Neither can I," Ranma said weakly. "How on Earth did she get so good so  
fast?"  
  
Akane reached over and gingerly touched Ukyo's sword, unsure of what to do.  
"Why did you stop me? I was going to--"  
  
"To what, kill her?"  
  
Akane fell silent, and looked down at the ever-expanding pool of Ranma's  
blood.  
  
"Don't be so eager to deal out death," Ranma said quietly, coughing on her  
own blood. "Once you kill someone, there's no way to take it back. If you  
can't deal with that it will destroy you from the inside out."  
  
"I wasn't--"  
  
"Besides; I can usually beat Ukyo with my eyes shut," Ranma replied   
contemplatively, looking up at the sky. "If I lost, you wouldn't have   
stood a chance against her. I don't understand how she got so -fast-.  
  
"She must have found some new training technique to improve her speed that  
much, that quickly."  
  
Akane tugged gently at the sword, far too concerned with the immense   
quantities of blood that pooled beneath Ranma to respond to the insult. She  
blinked in surprise as Ranma didn't react to the tugging, instead continuing  
her monologue.  
  
"I was sloppy, I should have been paying more attention to the fight. I'm  
just used to Ukyo being pretty easy to beat ...."  
  
"Ranma," Akane interrupted, growing increasingly worried, "you're   
bleeding."  
  
"I know," Ranma replied, glancing down at the blade protruding from her  
cloak. She sighed. "What a pain."  
  
"What a pain?" Akane repeated, taken aback. "That's all you have to say  
about it?"  
  
"Yeah," Ranma replied, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "But on the bright  
side, at least it got Ukyo off my back. I should have thought of this   
earlier."  
  
Akane said nothing; she was utterly, utterly lost.  
  
"Do me a favour," Ranma said, looking up at Akane's face. "Pull this damn  
sword out of me. It hurts like hell."  
  
"Uhh," Akane replied, numbly. "Oh ... kay."  
  
Reaching over, Akane gripped the handle of Ukyo's sword with a pale,   
trembling hand. She felt as if she were about to throw up. Tugging   
gently, she heard the sickening sound of the metal sliding out from Ranma's  
flesh.  
  
"Lesson four," Ranma said quietly, as Akane slowly pulled the blade from   
her midsection. "Don't be overconfident."  
  
Akane pulled the blade upwards, watching the metal slide slowly from the  
inky blackness of Ranma's cloak. She frowned slightly in surprise as she  
noticed something odd - no blood on the blade.   
  
She kept tugging, and slowly as the tip came into view, she saw that only  
a small part of the sword had blood stains upon it. Staring at the sword  
for a moment, she then glanced down at Ranma with a puzzled look on her  
face.  
  
"The sword didn't go in that deeply," Ranma answered her question before it  
was asked. "It's not as bad as it looks."  
  
"It looked pretty bad," Akane commented, looking back to the sword. Ukyo   
had pushed nearly the whole length into Ranma, yet only a few centimetres   
of its length were stained with blood.  
  
"Maybe I should check it out," Akane suggested, eyeing the sword curiously.  
Surely there should be more blood on the blade?   
  
"I've got to find out how Ukyo moved so fast," Ranma noted, deep in   
thought, ignoring Akane's suggestion.  
  
"You're bleeding to death!" Akane exclaimed, her panic finally overwhelming  
her confusion. Tossing Ukyo's sword aside, she gingerly brought her hands   
toward Ranma's stomach. "We've got to do something!"  
  
"I'll be fine," Ranma said dismissive. "I've taken worse. Don't worry  
about me. You didn't get hurt, did you?"  
  
"Well, not reall-- wait! How the hell can you say you're fine, you're  
bleeding all over the place!"  
  
"Don't exaggerate," Ranma scolded, pulling herself up to a sitting   
position, and shuffling over a little to lean up against a tree trunk.  
"Just give me a few minutes."  
  
Akane slumped backwards, sitting in the bloodied dirt as she watched Ranma  
lean back against the tree. Her eyes stared, unblinking, at the bizarre  
scene unfolding before her.  
  
Ranma breathed softly, blood-stained hands emerging from within the flowing  
fabric of her robe and coming together over her stomach. She pressed them  
gently down onto herself, closing her eyes and tilting her head back   
slightly as she applied pressure.  
  
Small ripples flowed outwards from her hands, running through the material  
of her cloak as a quiet humming sound filled Akane's ears.   
  
Ranma's mouth opened slightly, her breath coming more slowly through her  
reddened lips as her body relaxed totally against the tree. She held that  
position for several moments.  
  
"What are you ... doing?" Akane asked quietly, but no answer came.  
  
Ranma's head slumped, chin falling to her chest as her hands dropped away   
from her stomach and fell into her lap. She started to tilt slightly;  
Akane, noticing Ranma was about to fall, hastily scrambled over and grabbed  
Ranma's shoulder.  
  
An icy feeling stabbed her hand, driving up her arm to her shoulder; Akane  
jolted back, reeling. She landed hard on her backside, instinctively   
cradling her hand to her chest, staring wide-eyed at Ranma.  
  
Ranma's eyes slowly began to open; where once there was two irises and  
pupils, Akane saw only pitch black. Gasping, she pushed herself further  
away.  
  
"What ... are you?" she asked, watching as the darkness slowly faded,   
leaving Ranma's eyes as they once were.  
  
"A ... martial artist," Ranma replied with some effort, focussing her eyes  
on Akane. "Just like you."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma stepped gingerly, wincing slightly with each step she took. Akane  
followed numbly behind her, her mind trying to digest all that had   
happened.  
  
Two days ago she had been an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life; but   
now ....  
  
This is far from normal, she thought to herself, looking down at the   
bloodstains covering her gi. Never in her life had she seen so much blood;  
and yet Ranma simply shrugged it off as if it were nothing.  
  
What kind of person does that?  
  
Akane stared at Ranma, noting the slight wince with each step the redheaded  
girl took.  
  
She does feel pain then, Akane reasoned. What has she been through that   
she can just shrug off being stabbed in the stomach?  
  
Tossing ideas back and forth in her mind, Akane found herself short of any  
reasonable answers. She recalled the unnerving sight of Ranma's eyes; the  
memory threatened to send her train of thought spiraling out of control.  
  
* * *  
  
The air around Ukyo's sword returned quickly to normal as Ranma and Akane   
left; without Ranma's chilling presence there was nothing to keep the   
temperature low.  
  
Nobody was around to hear the bubbling sound that filled the air; nor would  
anyone hear as the bubbling sound became an intense sizzling.  
  
Ukyo's sword sank slightly into the muddy ground as Ranma's blood began to  
steam and bubble around it, a sickly odour of death rising into the air as  
the crimson liquid began to boil.  
  
Within a few moments the blood was gone, evaporated into a thin red mist   
that was lost on the breeze; leaving Ukyo's sword buried in a steaming   
patch of dried-out dirt.  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	4. Nibunnoichi

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
"Nibunnoichi"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Fire.  
  
A lone figure stood amongst the fiery maelstrom, silent and motionless  
amongst the chaotic fury of the flames.   
  
Scorching, unyielding, the swirling inferno circled, an unending firestorm  
of unbearable intensity. The very air seemed to give way to the rampant  
blaze, bright red bursts of flame dancing to an unseen rhythm around the  
empty silhouette.  
  
Blackness enveloped the figure in spite of the fierce orange light cast by   
the flames. The pitch black gloom seemed to overwhelm the light, to hold   
the fire at bay. The figure stepped forward, black liquid pooling at its  
feet, pushing back the wall of fire.   
  
A small puff of frozen mist rose from the shadows as the figure slowly   
raised its head. Two points of bright white light ignited within the  
darkness as the figure opened its eyes, throwing off the veil of shadows to  
reveal a scarred, sunken face framed by frayed, smouldering hair.  
  
Cherry-red hair.  
  
"We're here."  
  
* * *  
  
"Wha-?" Akane asked, shaking her head as Ranma's voice snapped her free   
from her daydream.   
  
"I said, we're here."  
  
"We ... are?" Akane asked, utterly disoriented.   
  
The sights, sounds and smells of the forest flooded Akane's senses, washing  
away the hollow dreams that had held her mind captive. The memories tried  
to cling on - fire - death - pain - blood - sending Akane reeling,   
staggering backwards a step as nausea gripped her stomach.  
  
Dropping to one knee, she fought back the urge to retch as memories of  
Ranma's pale skin, awash with blood, fought to dominate her mind.   
  
So much blood ... dripping, pooling, not warm, frozen.  
  
Her hand came to her mouth. She noticed it shaking, her own skin as deathly  
white as Ranma's had been, her fingers stained with the same blood.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Ranma's voice once again brought her back to reality, the icy touch of  
a hand upon Akane's shoulder jolting her into wakefulness.  
  
Shaking her head to clear it, Akane gave a weak nod. She lowered her hand  
to the ground and pushed downwards, willing herself to rise to her feet.   
A soft, cold sensation enveloped her hand as she pushed. As she stood she  
looked down at her hand once more and noticed it covered in fresh mud.  
  
She cast her eyes over the surroundings. Where once there had been nothing   
but endless green forest and dry dirt, there now stood an enormous cliff   
face, extending up from swampy ground into the distant sky. Squinting, she  
tried to catch a glimpse of the mountain's peak, but could see nothing  
beyond the clouds.  
  
Her eyes turned to Ranma, who stood back slightly, seemingly hesitant to  
approach. Akane shuddered at the sight of dried blood upon Ranma's face,  
and quickly turned away.  
  
"How long have I ..."  
  
"About an hour," Ranma replied, a look of concern upon her face. "I  
wondered why you were so quiet. I wasn't sure what to say."  
  
"I don't remember anything," Akane said, her voice feeble. "After the  
fight ... it's a total blank. I was in another world."  
  
"I know it's difficult to deal with ... this sort of thing," Ranma offered.  
"The mind has strange ways of coping with pressure."  
  
Akane shakily clutched her stomach. "I feel sick."  
  
"I'm ... sorry you had to see that fight," Ranma said.  
  
"Who was that girl?" Akane asked, looking back to Ranma. "And what the   
hell happened to you when she stabbed you?"  
  
"She ... her name is Ukyo. Ukyo Kuonji. She's a rival of mine."  
  
"Rival?" Akane asked, warily. "That fight was way, WAY beyond simple   
rivalry, Ranma."  
  
Ranma sighed, turning away. "Her family and mine have been fighting for   
years.   
  
"I don't know why the feud started," Ranma continued. "All I know is,  
Ukyo doesn't like me."  
  
"That's putting it lightly," Akane commented, glancing down at the dried  
blood that stained her gi. "She must have a reason to want to kill you."  
  
"Maybe she does," Ranma replied with a shrug. "I don't know."  
  
"So ... you just let her attack you like that? You let her stab you,   
without fighting back? Where is the honour in that?"  
  
"Akane, my father taught me many lessons about honour. The one I'll   
never forget is the one that cost him his life: to charge blindly into  
battle every time someone issues a challenge is nothing but foolishness."  
  
"Is that how you survive, by running away?" Akane accused.  
  
"I have fought more than my share of battles!" Ranma replied angrily. She  
stepped toward Akane and pointed at her. "I have no need to justify myself  
to you!"  
  
Akane felt suddenly dwarfed by Ranma's imposing presence, as though her  
companion had doubled in size to obscure the scenery, the flowing   
blackness of the cloak seeming to close in around her.  
  
"... Sorry ..." Akane stammered, stepping back as Ranma loomed over her.  
  
"The feud between the Kuonji and Saotome houses would not end with Ukyo's  
death. It would only make things worse," Ranma said, turning away from  
Akane. "I don't want to be a part of that anymore."  
  
"Ukyo doesn't seem to feel the same way. She didn't seem to mind attacking  
you."  
  
"It doesn't matter," Ranma said with a sigh, the anger fading from her   
voice. "There's no harm done, and now Ukyo will leave us alone."  
  
"What do you mean, no harm done?" Akane asked, incredulous. "She stabbed  
you!"  
  
"I'm a quick healer," Ranma replied, with an edge of bitterness. "Trust me,  
it's easier this way."  
  
"How on Earth can you say that?" Akane asked in slack-jawed amazement.   
Memories of Ranma's jet-black eyes flashed through her mind. "And how did   
you ... heal yourself just like that?"  
  
"Don't think too much about it," Ranma suggested in an impatient tone. "As  
long as we're still out here, we're in danger. This conversation can wait  
'til later."  
  
"But--"  
  
"I said, later," Ranma insisted, glancing back into the forest. "We have  
to go inside."  
  
"Inside?" Akane asked, looking back into the forest as well.  
  
"Inside," Ranma confirmed, gesturing toward a small opening tucked into the  
base of the cliff face, barely visible amidst the long grass that rose in  
tufts from the swamp.  
  
Akane looked uncertainly back to Ranma, watching her cloak ripple gently   
back and forth upon the chilled breeze that whistled through the valley.   
  
Glancing up to the sky, Ranma noticed a line of dark clouds in the   
distance, beyond the far side of the valley. Letting out a small sound of   
discontent, she turned back to Akane.  
  
"Come on."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane gasped in amazement as light flickered into existence, illuminating  
the enormous interior of the cavern. Ranma stood before her, holding the  
tip of Garyoutensei to the freshly lit torch.  
  
Ranma slipped the sword back into the folds of her cloak and lifted the  
torch from the wall. Turning to Akane, she gestured the Tendo girl to   
enter the cave.  
  
"It's ... a-amazing," Akane stammered, looking around in disbelief.  
  
The narrow tunnel they had entered through was dark, damp and long. Akane  
was not sure how long, but it felt like they were walking for an eternity.  
The entire tunnel had been pitch black, and only Ranma's icy grip upon her  
hand had guided her safely through.  
  
The massive area she now stood in astounded her. She could see the roof   
looming far above, faintly illuminated by the pale light of the torch, but   
the far side of the cavern was beyond the flame's reach, remaining hidden   
in shadow.  
  
The stone walls were wet, covered in patchy expanses of moss; small cracks  
ran along the wall in places, but for the most part it appeared amazingly   
smooth.  
  
Akane made out a small pool of water in the ground near Ranma. As Ranma   
slowly and silently made her way along the edge of the cavern, other pools  
came into the sphere of light.  
  
Ranma paused and withdrew Garyoutensei to light another torch before   
continuing around the perimeter of the cave.   
  
Akane watched quietly as Ranma worked, until eventually over a dozen   
torches were lit, throwing a dim, flickering blanket of light over the   
entire area.  
  
Ranma made her way over to Akane from the final torch, once again returning  
Garyoutensei to its home inside her cloak as she drew near.  
  
"We should be safe here for a while," she commented, turning back to face  
the cave as she came up alongside Akane. "It's not much, but it's better  
than being in the forest."  
  
"How did you find this place?" Akane asked, her voice echoing through the  
cave.  
  
"It's a Saotome family secret. Pops told me about it."  
  
Akane shook her head in disbelief, looking across at the twenty or so pools  
of water that dotted the ground. The distant ones all seemed to be warm;  
steam rose steadily from them all. The closer ones, however, were not  
steaming.  
  
"You should have a bath and wash that gi," Ranma suggested. "You brought  
along other clothes, right?"  
  
Akane nodded, taking off her backpack and lowering it to the ground.  
  
"Good. You can use any of these springs. I ... need to rest for a while,  
but I'll join you later. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," Akane replied with a nod, examining the pools. "Where are you   
going to be?"  
  
"Over there," Ranma pointed to a small entrance on the far side of the   
cavern. "Have a bath, I'll be back soon."  
  
With that, Ranma wandered away from Akane, stepping between the pools as   
she crossed over toward the distant entrance. She paused and knelt by one,  
stopping only long enough to splash water onto her blood-stained face. She  
rubbed at her face for a moment, then continued away from the pool.  
  
Akane watched with interest as the water in the pools near her started to  
warm up, a thin haze of steam quickly rising before her. The pools nearer  
to Ranma, however, stopped letting off steam. This continued until Ranma  
disappeared through the entrance, leaving Akane alone with a puzzled look  
on her face.  
  
I'm not leaving here without some answers, she decided, and stepped toward  
a spring.  
  
* * *  
  
Lowering herself to her knees, Ranma closed her eyes and winced as a fierce  
pain gripped her stomach. She held her breath, a hand resting on her   
stomach as her cloak flowed off her shoulders, down her back, and formed a  
small, swirling black puddle behind her.  
  
Letting out a long, shaky breath, she opened her eyes and turned her   
attention to her injury.  
  
"Damn it ...." she murmured, unfastening the wooden ties that held her   
shirt closed. Pulling the shirt open, she reached inside with one hand and  
gingerly pressed it to the wound, her breath catching as the touch of her  
hand brought with it a sharp, burning pain.  
  
"I've done as you commanded," she whispered, mindful of Akane in the next  
chamber. "Now, release me."  
  
Her whispers echoed gently through the small, stone passage, fading off   
into silence. She looked up at the wall before her and sighed.  
  
"You promised you'd release me," she uttered into the darkness. "You  
promised."  
  
The dripping sound of water broke the silence, filling Ranma's ears as it  
reverberated through the cavern. Warm blood oozed through her fingers,  
bringing tingling sensation to them as the icy chill was lifted by her   
blood's warmth. She gripped her stomach more tightly, shuddering at the  
pain that refused to leave her.  
  
"You made your point, old man," she quietly growled. "Even Ukyo beat me.  
What if it had been one of the hunters? What then?  
  
"You know as well as I do," she continued at length, speaking into the   
emptiness, "I couldn't defend her in this condition. She doesn't stand a   
chance."  
  
Again, she waited - again, she received no reply. Shoulders slumping, she  
stared at the ground.  
  
Damn you, she thought, clenching her free hand into a fist. She closed her  
eyes as she thought of her father; imagined him standing over her, face   
cast down in shame and humiliation.  
  
Forgive me for what I have become, she thought to herself, shame hanging   
over her like a fog.  
  
"Don't make me beg," she murmured to the ground. "You've humiliated me  
enough already. I can't even -fight-. I ... want to fight."  
  
I thought you didn't want to fight anymore. I thought you wanted it to   
end.  
  
Ranma's head shot up, her eyes widening as she stared at the wall.  
  
"I used to," she replied softly. "But now ... things are different. I can  
feel something inside her, something I haven't felt since ...."  
  
I see. You've changed your mind. I understand why - I feel it too.   
  
"I want to fight. Everything else is gone. The fight is all I have left   
now. Don't take it away from me."  
  
That is not true. You have Akane. She will join you, just like the   
others.  
  
"She isn't like the others. She's just like ... I used to be. She wants  
the fight too. She wants to learn about us."  
  
She is the last. The tree has no more branches. She will join you.  
  
"There are no more?"  
  
None. One way or another, this girl will be the end.  
  
"So be it," Ranma replied, rising to her feet. "I'm ready."  
  
You will train her?  
  
"Give back what is mine," Ranma said, a hard edge to her voice, "and I'll  
teach her."  
  
Very well - it is done. Do not repeat the mistakes of the past, boy.  
  
Ranma groaned, clutching her stomach tightly as a surging pain lanced   
through her, burning her to the very core. Falling to one knee, she gasped  
for air as the burning sensation spread within her, tendrils of flame   
lapping over her body and trickling through her soul.  
  
Where once her skin had been pale, it shone with a radiant hue; where her  
bones had been frail, they firmed with a new resolve. She brought her hand  
from her stomach. The blood no longer flowed from her, the wound no longer  
throbbed with pain.   
  
Running her hand over her smooth abdomen, she gently caressed the kanji   
that her skin bore. Closing her hand into a fist, she raised herself to  
her feet and experimentally threw a punch.  
  
A smile crept across her face as she examined her hand, clenching and   
unclenching, watching the muscles in her forearm tense and relax. She   
looked up at the wall once more, a gleam in her eye.  
  
"Gods, I'd forgotten how good it felt."  
  
She swept one arm around behind herself. Her cloak leapt up from the   
ground, latched onto her arm, and flowed up over her shoulders once more.   
  
The warmth immediately left her body once more, but the radiance stayed;  
turning, she faced the thin shaft of light that crept into the room from   
the larger chamber. Narrowing her eyes, she raised her fist.  
  
Akane has taken the first step. You must guide her.  
  
"Not a problem," she declared, determination burning bright behind her   
eyes. "Ranma Saotome is back."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane sighed and tried to relax, but her efforts were thwarted by the   
flashes of blood that filled her mind every time she dared close her eyes.  
Rather than think back to the fight, she decided to keep her eyes wide open  
and concentrate on the present.  
  
The warmth of the water around her felt amazingly good - more so as she  
realized just how cold she had been after spending so long near Ranma. She  
was unsure just what it was about the redheaded girl that seemed to suck   
all of the warmth from her body, but she was determined to find out.  
  
In the meantime, however, she was eager to try and enjoy the warmth of the   
water as it held her in a soothing embrace. Thin wisps of steam rose   
lazily from the water, reminding her of her family's bath back at her   
house.  
  
Her thoughts turned inevitably to her father. She wondered how he was   
doing, if he was taking care of himself, if the dojo was running smoothly,  
and a million other small things. She wanted to call him, but doubted that  
the cave was equipped with a telephone. That would just have to wait.   
  
She sighed, and glanced over at her gi as it floated on the other side of  
the pool. The blood stains were gone, which struck her as slightly odd -   
she had bled on her gi many times in the various tournaments she had   
entered, and blood stains did not usually come off clothing so easily.  
  
She wrung her hands together; too many strange things were going on for her  
not to feel nervous. There was something odd about this place, about the  
girl who had brought her here.   
  
Leaning back, she rested her head on the edge of the spring and looked up   
at the roof of the cavern, far above. Relaxation, it seemed, was hard to  
come by.  
  
Despite her best efforts, memories of the fight crept back into Akane's   
mind. The girl - what was her name? Ukyo? - seemed so determined to kill   
Ranma. Akane had made enemies in her lifetime, but none of them wanted to   
kill her - to her knowledge, at least.  
  
She tried to imagine living with someone out to kill you, but found she   
could not - just as she could not imagine shrugging off a sword through the  
stomach.   
  
She was no doctor, but she did not think it was possible to lose as much   
blood as Ranma had and walk away from it. She did not know how much blood  
the human body held, but she did not imagine it was much more than Ranma  
spilled in that fight.  
  
As disturbing as the mental image was, she had to admit that she was   
intrigued by the thought of being able to take such a blow and continue on.  
It would certainly make one a formidable fighter. Perhaps, Ranma might   
teach her the secret.   
  
She decided she was glad to have Ranma on her side, rather than against   
her. However, one niggling thought tickled at the back of her mind and   
refused to be silenced.  
  
If Ranma shrugged off a sword through the stomach, how on Earth did these   
"hunters" intimidate her?  
  
Akane shuddered at the very thought of it, and turned her thoughts back to  
her father, and her life at home. She tried to pretend she was in her  
bath, after a day of training.  
  
Crossing her arms over her stomach, she stretched out, dragging her feet   
along the bottom of the spring. The warm friction of the stone rubbing   
along the soles of her feet was immensely pleasurable. Akane curled her   
toes slightly and smiled, arching her back a little.  
  
Her toe ran over a small, smooth bump in the middle of the spring. She  
raised her head, opening her eyes as she ran her toe back and forth over  
the small protrusion. It did not feel at all like stone. Sitting up, she  
tried to peer down through the water at the object, but could not see what  
it was.  
  
Curiosity got the better of her; she bent forward at the waist, submerging  
herself, eyes screwed tightly shut as she groped blindly for the object.  
She felt around blindly for what felt like an eternity - where had the bump  
gone? Lungs burning, she was about to give up when she felt her fingertips  
slide over the smooth object.  
  
Closing her fingers around it, she tugged, and the object slid free of the   
rocks with far less resistance than she was expecting.   
  
Her head burst out of the water, sending droplets cascading all around as  
she gasped for air. She shook her head back and forth, adding to the water  
around the spring as she opened her eyes, blinking the moisture from them.  
  
"Phew," she inhaled deeply, catching her breath. As her breathing returned  
to normal, she looked down at the object in her hand, still beneath the   
water's surface.  
  
She held a sword handle, slightly longer than twice the width of her hand.  
It was smooth, black, and cold to the touch, in stark contrast to the water  
around her hand.   
  
"What the hell?" she asked herself, staring in confusion at the handle.   
"How did that get down there?"  
  
She lifted the handle, raising it from the water, and stared in utter shock  
as water seemed to rise with it. Where the sword's blade would be, a   
column of water protruded from the jet black handle. She raised the sword   
higher, bringing it entirely out of the water. The water level of the pool   
dropped slightly as she did.  
  
The blade of the sword rippled slightly as she stared at its translucent   
form. She could see a faded reflection of her shocked expression as she  
stared, dumbfounded.  
  
"What on Earth ...." she muttered, bringing her other hand up to gingerly  
prod at the blade. Her fingertip pushed through the blade's side and   
emerged on the other side. She was half expecting the sword to be some   
sort of odd metal, but found to her surprise that the sword was indeed made  
of water - icy cold water.  
  
She quickly pulled her finger free and rotated the handle slowly, examining  
the sword closely. It was thin, curved slightly in the middle, and   
appeared sharp on one side. Her curiosity brought her fingertip close to  
the sharpened edge, demanding to know how water could be sharp, but common  
sense won out as her hand retreated.  
  
"I see you've found it," came Ranma's voice.  
  
Akane jumped and spun around. Ranma stood over her, cloak swirling over   
the redheaded girl's form.  
  
"I do seem to be in the habit of interrupting your baths," Ranma said,   
flashing a smile. "Sorry about that."  
  
Akane shivered suddenly, and looked down at herself; she was chilled to the  
bone, her skin once more covered in goosebumps. The sword had held her so  
captivated she had not even noticed.  
  
"What ... what is ...."  
  
"The sword?" Ranma completed Akane's question for her. "That, Akane, is  
your family's ancestral sword."  
  
"I ... didn't know my family had a sword," Akane mumbled, turning her  
attention once more to the watery weapon. The liquid blade hummed quietly  
as she waved it slightly back and forth, calling to her. She brought it   
closer to her face and stared into its depths.  
  
"Shoryoutensei ...." she whispered.  
  
"Yes," Ranma acknowledged with a nod, withdrawing her own sword from her   
cloak. "It's related to my sword. Elegant, isn't it?"  
  
Akane nodded dumbly, vacant eyes staring deep into her family's history.   
She wondered for a moment how she knew the sword's name. Tearing her eyes  
from the water, she glanced questioningly over at Ranma.  
  
Ranma's sword, she noticed, had taken on a different appearance - where   
once it appeared relatively normal save for the whiteness of the blade, it  
now flickered like a flame, small tongues of pure white fire dancing along  
its edges.  
  
"Your sword," Akane said in awe, "it changed."  
  
"Indeed it has," Ranma replied with a nod.  
  
"Ranma," Akane said firmly, tightening her grip on Shoryoutensei's handle.  
"Tell me what the hell is going on. No more secrets."  
  
"All right," Ranma agreed. "Get out of there, put some clothes on. A bath  
is no place to be playing with a sword."  
  
* * *  
  
"You're probably wondering a lot of things," Ranma said, twirling   
Garyoutensei in circles beside her, "about me, about what's been   
happening."  
  
"You could say that," Akane replied, squeezing water from her hair. She  
reached down and grabbed a shirt, draped it over her damp shoulders, and  
began buttoning it up.  
  
"To tell the truth, it's a very long story," Ranma continued. The twirling  
stopped as she gripped Garyoutensei, bringing the sword across in front of  
herself. Swinging the sword in a smooth arc before her, she advanced   
forward a step, the impact of her foot sending a subdued rumble echoing  
through the cavern.  
  
"If I told you the whole thing, you'd be an old woman by the time I   
finished," she said, stepping and swinging again, leading with the opposite  
foot. "So, I'll have to summarise. I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Any explanation is better than what I know now," Akane stated, pulling a  
pair of denim pants up over her hips. She shook her head back and forth,  
sending a cascade of water droplets flying in all directions.  
  
"Hmm," Ranma said, watching as a few droplets of water hit Garyoutensei's  
blade. There was a slight hissing noise, and small trails of steam rose   
from the burning blade. She swung the sword, rolling the handle over the   
back of her hand, only to catch it again as it rolled off. Turning away,   
she reached up and tapped her chin with her free hand. "Where to begin?"  
  
"Two dragons," Ranma explained after a moment's silence, looking over her  
shoulder at Akane. She wandered slowly toward the far wall of the cavern,  
considering each step as she considered each word. "Brothers, actually.  
Ryukyu, a red dragon borne of fire and ash. Ryujin, a blue dragon risen  
from the waters of the ocean."  
  
"What about them?" Akane inquired, bending to lift Shoryoutensei from the  
ground.  
  
"The legend goes that the two brothers were rivals. Each competed with the  
other, trying to prove himself the better of the two. Ryukyu was jealous   
of Ryujin's ability to create life. Ryujin was fearful of Ryukyu's power   
to destroy it.  
  
"Across the centuries, the two dueled constantly. They fought like arch   
rivals; supposedly, Ryujin blinded Ryukyu in one eye in one of their   
fights, but Ryukyu wasn't ever able to return the favour.  
  
"They never stopped fighting, until eventually, one day, the fighting came  
to an end. It was inevitable, I suppose. The spirit of a dragon may live  
forever but their bodies don't. Ryukyu killed Ryujin. As he died, Ryujin  
managed to take Ryukyu by surprise and made one final attack that killed  
Ryukyu, too. Ryukyu fell to what would one day be Okinawa, already dead,   
and his body burst into flames.  
  
"The flames scorched the earth below his body, and ever since then, nothing  
has been able to grow there. No grass, no trees, no life at all.  
  
"Ryujin lay nearby, bleeding to death, and as he watched his brother die,   
he lamented that he had finally given in to his brother's nature and taken  
life, rather than creating it. He had lost his honour, and could do   
nothing but die in shame. He cried for his misfortune, and his tears   
formed a small lake."  
  
"Okinawa? I read about the Ryukyu Kingdom a couple of years ago ...."  
  
"A coincidence, most likely," Ranma said with a smile. "It is supposedly   
quite an unusual sight - a clear, pure lake of water surrounded by dry,   
lifeless land."  
  
"The remains of the dragons were undisturbed until nearly a thousand years   
later, when a chieftain found them, in the 12th century or so, and demanded   
of his weaponsmiths a weapon forged from the dragons' essence. He desired   
the power of the dragons to help him conquer Okinawa, and presumably Japan.  
  
"The men feared the dragon's remains, but none dared to oppose the   
chieftain's will, fearing his wrath if they did. One, however, thought of   
a way to give the chieftain what he wanted, but to sabotage his plans for   
domination.  
  
"Instead of creating one weapon, the man created two. One from Ryukyu,  
one from Ryujin. Two swords, alike in form but opposite in essence. One  
sword of fire, one of water."  
  
"Garyoutensei, a sword of conquest," Ranma explained, raising her sword.  
She nodded her head toward the sword in Akane's hand. "Shoryoutensei, a  
sword of defense."  
  
"How did that stop the chieftain?" Akane asked, inspecting her own sword.  
  
"Just as the dragons themselves were rivals, so are the swords. If one  
person wields them both, the essence of the dragons will wage their battle  
inside that person's body.  
  
"I imagine it isn't a pretty way to die," Ranma remarked, watching Akane   
quickly move her sword away from her face. "The chieftain knows, but you  
can't ask a dead man.  
  
"Since the two swords cannot be wielded together, it is not possible to use  
them to both conquer and defend what has been conquered."  
  
"You expect me to believe ..." Akane said, but caught herself. A day ago,  
if she had been asked whether or not dragons exist, she would have laughed.  
After seeing a burning sword, a liquid sword, and a girl survive a sword -   
even a normal, metal sword - through the stomach, she was beginning to   
adapt to the abnormal. Suddenly, the idea of dragons roaming the Earth did  
not sound so strange.  
  
"Mmm," Ranma said, letting Akane's sentence fall into silence. "The   
history isn't that important. The important thing is that I am holding   
Garyoutensei, and now, you are holding its twin."  
  
Akane glanced down at her sword, a confused expression on her face. "Is  
that what these 'hunters' are after? The swords?"  
  
"Yes, but I don't think they're after just the swords," Ranma replied.   
"I'm not sure why, but they are after you, just as they went after your  
mother."  
  
"Just let them try something," Akane growled dangerously. "If they think  
they're going to kill me, they've got a surprise waiting."  
  
"Yes, they do," Ranma agreed. "They certainly do."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about this sword earlier?"  
  
"I know I wasn't entirely forthcoming with you earlier," Ranma replied.  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"That's one way of putting it," Akane observed. "Another way would be to   
say that you didn't tell me anything."   
  
"Hey, I told you a lot," Ranma protested. "Garyoutensei is infused with   
fire, just as I said. Its very essence is fire. In a way, it -is- fire.  
It's the same with your sword and water."  
  
"The swords have been passed down through our families for nearly nine   
hundred years. The Saotome art developed techniques centred around fire;  
the Tendo school seems to have an affinity for water."  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Akane asked, aghast. "I hate water!"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I, uh," Akane stammered, flushing as she looked down at the ground.   
"I ... I can't even swim ... very well. It's kind of embarrassing."  
  
"Really?" Ranma asked, curious. "Want me to teach you how?"  
  
"You'd ... do that, Ranma?" Akane asked, surprised.  
  
"Of course," Ranma replied with a shrug. "I can't have my student being  
afraid of water, now, can I?"  
  
"I ... suppose not," Akane agreed halfheartedly, scratching the back of her   
head nervously. "Th ... thanks."  
  
"First, though," Ranma said, raising her sword to point at Akane, "let's   
see how you handle Shoryoutensei."  
  
* * *  
  
"You're ... sure you want to do this?" Shampoo asked meekly, seeming to   
have difficulty summoning up the courage to speak.  
  
"Yes," Ranma replied, sheathing the sword completely and lowering the   
scabbard. "You beat my old man, and you beat me. I want to learn   
everything you know about sword fighting."  
  
"Well, I, uh, didn't really beat you with my sword," Shampoo struggled with  
her words, looking over to her great grandmother for support. It was a   
futile measure - she withered under the stern gaze of the old woman.   
  
Truth be told, she did not feel she had anything to teach the redheaded   
girl. She had only been victorious in their previous battle because of her  
bow, and Ranma did not seem at all interested in learning how to use that  
weapon - she was entirely fixated upon sword fighting.  
  
Secondly, she did not want to face Ranma in battle again. She had almost   
lost the last time, and was not foolish enough to believe she had won   
through skill. It was only luck that saved her life in their last duel,   
and she did not want to press that luck.  
  
The fact of the matter, however, was that she did not have a lot of choice  
in the matter. She was bonded to Ranma now by a debt of honour, and her  
tribe would not accept anything less than total obedience until that debt  
was paid.  
  
Shampoo sighed. It was futile to argue. "Very well, I'll ... teach you."  
  
"All right," Ranma enthused, drawing the radiant Garyoutensei from its  
scabbard. "Bring it on."  
  
* * *  
  
"You can spend a lifetime studying your sword and still not understand all  
of its subtleties," Ranma explained. "Unfortunately, time does not allow   
for that in our case, so we'll start with the basics and see where we go  
from there.  
  
"The first thing to remember when it comes to sword fighting," Ranma spoke  
evenly, keeping her sword directed at Akane, "is that it is not unarmed  
fighting."  
  
Akane nodded from her position a short distance away, but did not speak.  
  
"That might seem obvious, but holding a sword affects your balance,   
movements and reactions more than you might expect," Ranma continued. As   
she spoke, she shrugged her shoulders. The simple movement sent her cloak  
cascading down her shoulders to pool at her feet.  
  
"As you become more familiar with your sword, you will begin to feel it as  
an extension of your body," Ranma continued, swinging Garyoutensei   
diagonally down in a quick movement. "The goal is to refine that sense, to   
sharpen it to the point that the sword is a part of you. Your will, your  
sword, your body, acting together as one. That is the first step you must  
take.  
  
"More than any other sword you have ever or will ever use, Shoryoutensei   
will become part of you. You must impose your will upon it firmly. Control  
it, or it will control you. You need to act decisively, even in a battle  
filled with uncertainty. There is no room for hesitation or error. Be   
confident in yourself.  
  
"Become one with your sword and you will become its master. Don't, and   
you will become its slave. Always - always - keep that in mind. Now -   
let's begin."  
  
* * *  
  
"You have a good stance," Shampoo observed. "Your feet are a little too   
close together, but otherwise it looks good."  
  
"I learned the basics from Pops," Ranma explained impatiently. "I don't  
need to be told again."  
  
* * *  
  
"He taught you well," Ranma said with a nod. "You're not bad for a   
beginner. Good - that'll save us some time."  
  
"Thank you," Akane commented, with something of a smile. It felt good to  
have someone beside her father compliment her abilities.  
  
The truth was, she had spent hours with her father in the dojo, practicing  
her swordfighting fundamentals; stance, grip, motion, swings. Most of her  
life had been dedicated to unarmed martial arts, but when she turned   
fifteen, her father began to emphasise the roles of various weapons in   
combat, particularly swords.  
  
At first, the lessons focused on weapons like the bo, tonfa, and sai; she  
developed competence at the basics but did not find the styles enjoyable  
or satisfying. As her lessons turned to the katana, however, she found   
to her surprise that she was beginning to enjoy her lessons, and when her  
father decided to return to teaching unarmed styles, it was not without   
much protest from her.  
  
Shoryoutensei was light, swift, and smooth as she practiced a few basic  
swinging motions. It amazed her how unobtrusive the sword felt. It almost   
seemed as if she were swinging only a handle.  
  
"Is this thing really going to be able to cut anything?" she asked, eyes  
on the watery blade. She felt if she tried to hit something, she would   
just get it wet. "I don't want to break it."  
  
"Try it and see," Ranma suggested, gesturing over toward the nearest wall.  
"Take a swing and see what happens. Somehow, I don't think you'll break   
it."  
  
* * *  
  
Water.  
  
A lone figure stood amid the endless ocean, silent and motionless amongst   
the rhythm of the waves.   
  
Swirling, turning, a churning whirlpool circled, a bottomless pit of   
immense power. The air hung heavy with the spraying saltwater mist, deep  
blue orbs of icy energy screaming through the air as the wind whipped   
around the unmoving warrior, howling in despair.  
  
The figure stepped forward, raising its arms, bringing with them the   
frigid cyclone, separating the air from the ocean with ease.   
  
A tendril of water rose to meet the figure's hands, passing through them  
as if they were not there. It passed as easily through the vortex of the  
storm, to the very centre of the whirling wind.  
  
An immense blast of water shot upwards through the centre of the tornado,   
annihilating the air as it went.   
  
Picking up speed, the liquid lance shot toward the sky, piercing the murky  
clouds overhead. A glorious shaft of sunlight smashed through from the   
heavens, ripping the clouds asunder. Its radiant glow illuminated the   
figure standing far below.  
  
A smile crossed her face. Below her, the ocean calmed.  
  
* * *  
  
"Not bad for a beginner."  
  
Akane choked, coughing up a mouthful of water. She stared, wide-eyed, at  
the cavernous gash that scarred the once-flawless rock face.  
  
It had all happened so fast. The swing of her sword passing through the   
rock like a heated knife through butter. The bright glow of the stone.   
The cracking sound that rang in her ears like a gunshot. The stabbing   
cold that sent her reeling. The sudden, violent explosion of water as the   
wall shattered before her very eyes.  
  
Ranma knelt by her companion, offering a hand. Akane took it, numbly,   
eyes not leaving the wall as she was pulled to her feet.  
  
Ice-cold water dribbled out of the gaping wound, pooling on the floor;   
transparent blood, seeping from the injury. Akane reached out and gingerly  
pressed her palm to the shattered rock, her pale hand shaking in   
trepidation.  
  
"How ... how did ...."  
  
"Shoryoutensei," Ranma said, examining her sodden companion. "All it   
touches turns to water."  
  
Akane worked her jaw, trying to form a coherant sentence, but failed   
utterly, managing only a steady dripping sound as droplets of water fell   
from her soaked hair to the ground below.  
  
"Now you've seen it," Ranma said, turning Akane toward her by the   
shoulders, "you must learn to control it."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma sat quietly, listening to the soft sounds of the forest and the   
trickling of water along a stream that accompanied them. A loud hissing  
sound filled the air, making her wince, a sharp stab of guilt making her   
blood run cold.  
  
"I'm ... sorry," she offered, calling over her shoulder. "I didn't mean   
to."  
  
Shampoo knelt near the stream, holding her right forearm under the surface  
of the water Clenching her teeth, she examined the charred gash that ran   
along her arm, and tried her best to ignore the searing pain that cut into   
her like white-hot hooks dragged through her skin.  
  
"It doesn't matter," she managed, looking sorrowfully at her ruined arm.  
Clenching her fist experimentally, she was relieved to find she could at  
least still control her hand. "Accidents happen."  
  
"I don't usually hit girls," Ranma explained, fidgeting uncomfortably upon  
the grass. "Things have just been ... kinda weird, lately."  
  
"You don't need to apologise," Shampoo replied, through tight lips.   
  
Pulling her arm from the water, she stared as the skin began to turn a   
sickly grey colour. She quickly tore a line of fabric from her clothing  
and set about wrapping the wound in a bandage.  
  
"I guess you don't believe me," Ranma said quietly, "but I really didn't  
mean to, y'know, hit you."  
  
"It doesn't matter what I believe. If you want to cut me, cut me. If you  
want to kill me, kill me. I won't stop you."  
  
"Is that how you feel?" Ranma asked, turning to look at Shampoo. "Or is  
that what the old woman told you to feel?"  
  
"There is no difference," Shampoo stated angrily. Her voice lowered to a   
hiss. "I killed your father. I cut him open and bled him dry! Now try   
and tell me you don't want to kill me!"  
  
"Of course I want to kill you!" Ranma shouted, jumping to her feet. She  
stormed toward the creek, toward Shampoo, who did not try to back away.  
"I loved my father and you took him away from me!"  
  
"So do it!" Shampoo challenged, looking defiantly up at Ranma. "Take your  
revenge, kill me!"  
  
Ranma glared down at the Amazon, anger smouldering in her eyes, her sword  
hand shakily gripping and releasing Garyoutensei's handle. She moved to  
draw her sword but stopped, turning away instead.  
  
"No, damn it," she seethed. "That's what you want me to do. Pops is dead  
and killing you won't bring him back. I'm not a killer, no matter how much  
you want me to be."  
  
"Is that how you feel?" Shampoo asked angrily, cradling her throbbing arm   
to her chest. "Or is that what your father told you to feel?"  
  
Ranma walked away, fuming, and returned to her spot on the grass. Sitting  
down quickly, she did her best to ignore Shampoo.  
  
Shampoo sighed and returned her attention to her arm. She could feel her  
fingers going numb, her skin growing cold. Perhaps the warnings her great  
grandmother had given her were true after all.  
  
"It's taken you only a week to beat me with the sword," she said without   
looking up. "I can't teach you anything more."  
  
"Then your debt is paid," Ranma said, her voice even. "I'll take you back   
to the village, you can get that wound looked at, and that will be the end   
of us."  
  
"What?" Shampoo asked, surprised. She stood and turned to face Ranma.  
  
"I'm leaving," Ranma explained. "I'm going back to Japan."  
  
"I'm coming with you," Shampoo replied without hesitation.  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"Yes, I am! You think a few sword lessons pay off my debt? I disobeyed my  
great grandmother, and I'm -not- leaving until I've regained my honour."  
  
"Too bad," Ranma replied with a shrug. "I'm going, you're not."  
  
"Why? Why are you going?" Shampoo questioned, stepping closer to Ranma,  
arm still held to her chest. "What's so important that you have to leave   
right now?"  
  
"My father told me to. I have something to do there."  
  
"So you follow the wishes of your family," Shampoo said, stepping around in  
front of Ranma. She knelt down, her voice growing desperate. "Don't make   
me go against the wishes of mine."  
  
Ranma sighed, looking into Shampoo's pleading eyes. Anger giving way to  
pity, her shoulders slumped. She did not want to, but ... she had no  
choice.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
* * *  
  
"This wound is serious," Cologne observed, cradling Shampoo's arm   
delicately, careful not to touch the burned flesh. "There is not much I   
can do about it. That damned sword is far too dangerous to be sparring   
with."  
  
"She only hit my arm," Shampoo said with a sigh. "If she'd hit my neck,  
perhaps this would be over."  
  
"Stop wishing for death," Cologne scolded, stepping away toward the fire   
that burned in the midst of the hut. She took a small vial of liquid from  
her cloak and held it over the fire, watching the flames lick at it. "Life  
is a gift, not a burden."  
  
"At least death would end this torture," Shampoo complained. "I don't want   
to go with Ranma, but what choice do I have?"  
  
"None," Cologne replied, shaking the vial gently back and forth. "We both   
knew Ranma would want to leave sooner or later. You must turn this   
experience into a positive one. Learn from Ranma. It will serve you well   
to be educated in the ways of the world outside this village."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Besides," Cologne continued, "you must keep an eye on Ranma. She is  
dangerous."  
  
"I know that," Shampoo agreed, raising her injured arm. "Part of me wishes  
that ... that I had killed her."  
  
"I know, child," Cologne solemnly observed. "I'm sure Ranma sometimes   
feels the same way."  
  
"So, why not ...."  
  
"Kill her?" Cologne asked, peering over her shoulder for a moment. "Is  
that your suggestion?"  
  
"Well ...."  
  
"And you think you could live with that? Killing a girl whose only crime  
was having a fool for a father?"  
  
Shampoo nursed her arm, unable to respond. As usual, her Great-Grandmother  
was right.  
  
"Ranma has killed no-one. The fault lies all in that damnable sword, and  
that poor child's bad luck in having it thrust upon her. It will probably  
destroy her in the end."  
  
"Destroy her?"  
  
"Mm," Cologne hummed, nodding to herself. "If you're not careful, it may  
well destroy you too."  
  
A silence hung in the air between them as Shampoo considered Cologne's   
words.   
  
"It's really ... that bad?" she asked, at length.   
  
"That girl carries a dragonstooth blade, Shampoo. That is a grave   
responsibility, and I fear she is not yet be ready to handle it. That is  
why you must be there with her."  
  
"You think I can handle it?" Shampoo queried as Cologne brought the vial   
over toward her.   
  
"No, you can not," Cologne replied, tipping the liquid along a thin strip  
of fabric. "Never touch the sword. It will bring nothing but death. You  
must watch Ranma, that is all. Do as she asks, but remember you will be   
the eyes and ears of the Amazons in Japan. If needs must, you shall return  
to China and let me know of the situation. I must be kept informed."  
  
"Very well," Shampoo sighed, resigned to her fate. She winced as Cologne  
coiled the heated bandage around her arm. "That hurts."  
  
"Life often does, child," Cologne opined, tightening the bandage.  
  
* * *  
  
"Japan lies to the east, across the East Sea," Ranma said, pointing out  
toward the horizon. The warm water of the ocean's tide lapped over her   
toes as she peered off into the distance.  
  
"How do we get there?" Shampoo asked, weighed down by provisions, carried   
in her left hand. The sensation had returned to her right hand, but she   
did not want to burden it, just in case.  
  
"The same way I came here," Ranma replied with a shrug. "We swim."  
  
* * *  
  
A light drizzle danced across the forest, tiny droplets of rain tumbling  
gracefully through the air to the earth below. The full moon shone   
brightly from a gap in the clouds above, its milky light lending the   
raindrops an ethereal glow.  
  
A solitary figure stepped lightly across grassy land that was quickly   
turning to a muddy bog. Shrouded in a silken black cloak, the figure   
melted into and out of the shadows, drifting effortlessly through the   
night. Watchful eyes glowed white from within its dark form, the pale   
moonlight illuminating the two orbs as they scanned back and forth through   
the dense foliage.  
  
Neither the rain nor mud slowed its search as it methodically moved between  
the trees, silent and almost invisible. Emerging into a clearing, it   
stopped as a glimmer of light caught its eye.  
  
Before it, half-submerged in a puddle of rainwater, lay a sword that   
shimmered by the light of the moon. The figure glided toward it, its cloak  
trailing along behind it in the mud. Tiny raindrops darted into the cloak,  
the impact of each droplet sending a small ripple through the black   
material.  
  
The figure knelt down alongside the sword, eyes fixed upon it as a small,  
pale hand emerged from the darkened folds. A jet-black ponytail dangled   
into the thick mud, unnoticed by its owner. Thin fingers closed around the  
sword's handle; the moment they made contact, the puddle of rainwater   
froze over, hardening instantly into a sheet of ice.  
  
The figure tugged the sword free of the earth's icy grip. Rising slowly to  
its feet, it held the blade up to the moonlight and peered closely at it.  
  
Sheathing the sword within the wraithlike blackness of its cloak, the   
figure turned and swept itself away from the ice. Reaching up with one   
hand, it gently tapped the side of its head.  
  
"It is as I suspected," it spoke, in quiet tones. "Although it seems   
Kuonji has beaten me here - that means the child is not alone. What do you   
wish me to do?"  
  
The rainfall grew more intense as dark clouds, laden with moisture, rolled  
across the night sky to completely obscure the moon. The fragile moonlight  
was captured entirely by the dark intruders, casting the entire forest into  
shadow.  
  
"Very well. What of Waterskin?"  
  
A stark, chilled wind howled through the trees, robbing the air of any  
lingering warmth, however slight. The ghastly cold ensnared the heart of  
the forest, bleeding the warmth from the ground and the trees. The light  
pitterpatter of rain hardened into a staccato beat of hailstones impacting   
upon the frozen ground below.  
  
"As you wish, it shall be done. I will contact you."  
  
Lowering its hand from its head, the figure turned back toward the   
clearing. The time was right - all that remained was the execution.  
  
"At last, you have awoken. Welcome home, Mother."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	5. Waterskin

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
"Waterskin"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
"Good," Ranma observed, "you're learning quickly."  
  
Akane mumbled her thanks to the compliment as she ducked beneath a powerful  
swing that sliced the air where her head had been moments before. She   
straightened, quickly correcting her balance. Sweat stung her eyes, and   
her arms and legs ached from the extended training.  
  
The pair had been sparring for hours. Akane had long since given up on   
counting how many. Most of her concentration was now focused on holding   
down the parts of her sleep-deprived mind that seemed intent on floating   
away from her body. This was not lost on Ranma.  
  
"We should stop," Ranma said, lowering Garyoutensei. She bowed slightly,   
acknowledging Akane's improvement with the sword. "There's no point   
training you if I kill you by pushing you too hard, now, is there?"  
  
"I guess," Akane panted, trying to hide her exhaustion. The relief in her   
face showed through despite her best efforts.  
  
"You handle Shoryoutensei gracefully," Ranma commented, bringing the tip of  
her blade to press against Akane's weapon. A hiss filled the cavern as a   
sliver of steam rose from the contact. "You seem to be a natural."  
  
"I don't," Akane countered, between heavy breaths, "feel much like a   
natural."  
  
Ranma's sword withdrew and retreated into the billowing blackness that   
surrounded her. Akane watched the blade disappear then turned her unsteady  
gaze up to Ranma's face. A flush of irritation washed momentarily over her  
as she observed Ranma looking as refreshed as if their sparring session had  
never occured.   
  
"How do you do that?" she queried.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"You're not even tired," Akane explained, gesturing toward her opponent.   
"It's as if you weren't even trying."  
  
"I've been training longer than you, Akane. You can't expect to start at  
the top."  
  
"I just feel like I've been waving this sword around without learning   
anything," Akane complained.  
  
"Is that so?" Ranma asked, turning away from her student. She hummed   
thoughtfully, stepping around the nearest pool. With a suddenness that   
caught Akane completely off guard, Ranma picked up a small stone, whirled  
in place and launched it toward Akane at alarming speed.  
  
Akane caught sight of a small grey object for barely an instant before   
her instincts kicked in and slammed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact  
upon her face.  
  
The stone did not impact - instead, Akane was surprised by a splash of cold  
water in the face. She coughed, shaking her head as water went up her   
nose, and opened her eyes. Her sword obscured her vision; she suddenly  
noticed that her hands were holding the blade protectively in front of her  
face.  
  
"You seem to be doing okay, if you ask me."  
  
"How did I ..." Akane muttered, staring at Shoryoutensei almost reverently  
as she lowered it from her face.  
  
"You wanted to stop the stone," Ranma explained. "The sword drew upon that  
intent and turned it into action. The sword, the mind, the body, acting as  
one. That is what you are beginning to learn, even if you didn't know it   
at the time."  
  
Akane considered Ranma's words as she stared into the rippling surface of   
her sword. She had not even felt it move, yet it had, in an instant, moved   
to defend her.  
  
"Your mind created the intention, the sword acted upon it and blocked the  
stone. The swords act solely on intent. Nothing is an accident."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Ranma rose to her feet, and as she turned toward Akane, Garyoutensei swept  
out from beneath her cloak. She raised the blade with one hand and sliced  
quickly through her other arm with it. As Akane reeled in shock, Ranma   
raised her arm to show that, besides the scars already present, it was  
undamaged. "Obviously, I don't want to cut off my own arm."  
  
"I ... how ...." Akane stammered, eyes wide as saucers.  
  
"Don't look so surprised," Ranma chided. "Deep down, you already knew   
that. That said, I do hope the explanation helps you feel like you're   
learning something."  
  
Wiping water from her face, Akane stepped over to the edge of a spring and  
gently sat her aching body down, gingerly dangling her feet into the warm  
water. She let Shoryoutensei rest across her lap, and let out a long, deep  
breath. "Thanks, I think."  
  
"You're welcome," Ranma replied, stepping around to the far side of the   
spring. Garyoutensei was once again nowhere to be seen. "I must say,   
you're picking this up very quickly. I'm impressed."  
  
"Dad always said I was a fast learner," Akane replied with a weary smile.  
"I've been studying martial arts nearly all my life."  
  
"So have I," Ranma replied. "Martial arts IS my life. I ... wish my   
father had been around to teach me for more of it."  
  
"It must be difficult," Akane sympathised. "I'd be lost without my Dad."  
  
"It is, sometimes. I know he's watching over me, but ... sometimes I'd   
give anything to speak to him again."  
  
Akane looked away from the sadness etched into Ranma's face, instead   
concentrating on the dimly-lit depths of the spring.  
  
"Tell me about your father," Ranma requested, turning away. "I really   
don't know very much about him."  
  
Akane looked up in surprise, but saw only the impenetrable blackness of   
Ranma's back, the stark red trail of her ponytail the only relief from the   
darkness.  
  
"He's a good man," Akane began. "He teaches my family's school of martial  
arts to anyone who wants to learn them. He's a patient teacher, and   
everybody who tries his classes ends up coming back. He's ... looked after  
me since Mother died. He's kind, and caring, and ... a good father."  
  
"He must be proud of you," Ranma commented. "Sixteen, and already a   
champion, many times over."  
  
"I suppose he is," Akane agreed. "I hadn't really thought about it very   
much."  
  
"So, you study the Art for yourself?"  
  
"What do you mean? Of course I do."  
  
"I mean, you do it because you want to, not because your father wants you  
to?"  
  
"Of course," Akane replied with a shrug. "Don't you?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't started  
learning martial arts. I probably would have still studied the Art, but  
maybe I would have been ... I don't know. A chef, perhaps."  
  
"A chef?"  
  
"Maybe. Or a painter, or a violinist, or ... I don't know. I get curious  
sometimes, what my destiny would have been if things hadn't happened as   
they did."  
  
"Why? What's the point?" Akane asked. "I mean, if I lost a tournament   
fight, I could wonder what would have happened if I'd blocked this punch  
or that kick, or I could just learn from what DID happen and carry on with  
my life. It's stupid to obsess over 'if's and 'maybe's."  
  
"Your father taught you that?"  
  
"No. I taught myself."  
  
"I can see you're not going to need any help acting decisively," Ranma   
commented, a smile on her face as she turned to face Akane once more.   
"But, there is value to be had in examining the past."  
  
"Sure, what happened is important, but not what -could- have happened. If   
you spend your time worrying about that, you'll just end up regretting  
everything you do."  
  
"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?" Ranma observed with   
an air of amusement. Such idealistic zeal was refreshing.  
  
Ranma's question echoed through the cavern, growing ever quieter until   
silence consumed it. Ranma waited for Akane's reply, and was just about to  
speak again when the raven-haired girl let out a sigh.  
  
"When I was little," Akane spoke softly, sadly, "I used to lay in bed and  
listen to Dad cry."  
  
"Akane," Ranma said, biting her lip, all trace of amusement quickly   
banished from her voice, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Some nights, he'd cry for hours. I usually fell asleep listening to him.   
I knew why he was crying, but ... for some reason, I didn't cry. Not even   
once. I'd lay there, wondering why he couldn't just ... stop. I wished I   
could make him stop, or cheer him up ... or cry with him. But I just lay   
there, listening. Always, just listening.  
  
"He probably thought I was asleep, that I didn't know any better. Oh, I   
knew. I understood, better than he did. Nothing was going to bring Mother  
back. All that we could do was move on with our lives.   
  
"I don't believe in 'what if'. I could ask myself, 'what if Mother hadn't   
died? Would Dad still cry?', but I can't answer those questions. What I   
-can- do is find the person that killed her, and make them pay for what   
they did. If I can avenge her death, I can look Dad in the eye, and tell  
him not to cry anymore."  
  
* * *  
  
The nightmare was always the same.  
  
"Listen ... Boy," Genma grunted, reaching up to squeeze Ranma's arm. "Take  
the sword ... and go. It is the Saotome ... family legacy. The Saotome  
name must live on. Don't ... let it die here today because of my foolish  
act."  
  
"I'm not going to leave you!" Ranma insisted.  
  
"If you only ever obey me once ... obey me now. Please, Boy," Genma   
pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, eyes dull with agony. "Take the sword  
... go back to Japan ... don't ever lose Garyoutensei ...."  
  
"I can't--"  
  
"Promise!" Genma persisted, his pasty-white hand shaking as released   
Ranma's arm. He took hold of his sword's scabbard and handed it to Ranma.  
"You must do this ... it's important."  
  
Ranma tried to reach out for his father, to pick him up and carry him to  
safety, but could not move. He stood motionless, watching his father's   
breathing, fast and shallow. Crimson blood puddled in the muddy earth,   
deep red an evergrowing stain.  
  
Ranma stared at his feet, stark white against the rusty ground; a drop of   
blood splattered across his toes, washing over them as blood dripped from   
the sword in his hand.  
  
His arm slowly raised the sword, its blade stained red, and held it toward   
his father, who looked back with hollow, accusing eyes.  
  
"Father?"  
  
And then, Genma was gone.  
  
Gravity gripped Ranma's body, yanking him downwards with savage force. The  
cold, grey rocks of a cliff face sped upwards past him. A chilling darkness   
wrapped itself around him as the roaring sound of the ocean below filled   
his ears ....  
  
* * *  
  
A piercing scream filled Ranma's mind, jolting her upright. Bringing her  
hand to cradle her forehead, she panted for breath. Gods, she hated sleep.  
She had managed to stave it off for almost a month; she chided herself for  
giving in to its call.  
  
The nightmare drove cold daggers of panic deep into her heart. She feared  
the gaunt, lifeless face of her father more than any enemy she had faced.   
Sleep was an enemy to be conquered, the dreams of the past were haunting   
spectres that sought to drive her to madness.   
  
Ranma forced herself to her feet, shook herself to banish the drowsiness   
that fogged her mind, and stretched her muscles. Her body was unaccustomed  
to sleep, meaning her muscles stiffened up during even the shortest of   
naps.  
  
Akane slept nearby, looking markedly uncomfortable on the cold stone floor  
of the cavern. Dim light danced across her face, shadows darting back and  
forth across her features.  
  
Ranma watched the Tendo girl for a time, silent envy her only companion as  
she watched over Akane's relatively peaceful slumber. Her father's ghost  
had long since chased such rest from her life.  
  
She let out a weary sigh and turned her eyes toward the tunnel entrance.   
The soft light of the torches perpetuated the day, leaving her wondering   
what time it was outside. The thought passed quickly; the time was largely  
irrelevant. When Akane awoke, her training would resume.  
  
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the glimmering reflections of the torches  
in Akane's sword. And so, she thought with a sigh, the nightmare rides on.   
I'm sorry, Akane. I truly am sorry.  
  
* * *  
  
An armada of water-laden clouds continued their bombardment, launching wave   
after wave of swollen droplets toward the earth below. The sun strained to   
cast its rays between the clouds, the soft evening light shattering amongst   
the downpour. The mountain peaks bathed in the rain and light, coruscating   
amid the sunshower.  
  
Far below, amongst the lush forest bed, a lone figure scoured the base of   
one of the mountains. Raindrops unfortunate enough to fall into its path  
froze solid on frigid air, falling as hailstones to shatter at its feet.  
The crunching sounds of each of its footsteps were ignored as the figure  
ran its fingertips across the rock surface.  
  
"I can feel you," it muttered, deep in concentration. "I know you're   
hiding. Show me the way."  
  
Scanning back and forth across the desolate rock, it searched tirelessly,  
methodically following a pattern with urgent efficiency. Suddenly, its  
stare shot to the left, catching sight of an anomaly. Where once there had  
been a bare rock face, there now was a small opening, partially submerged  
amongst a nearby swamp.  
  
A crooked smile spread slowly across its face. "Very interesting."  
  
* * *  
  
A sharp prod in the back jolted Akane from her sleep.  
  
"Wha-? What?" she snorted, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. A vague ache   
squeezed her lower back and she stretched to loosen her muscles. "What   
time is it?"  
  
"Good question. You slept for a few hours. I'm not sure what time it is.   
Now get up."  
  
"It feels like morning," Akane commented with a yawn, as she pulled herself  
to her feet.   
  
"That's because you just woke up," Ranma commented, peering intently into   
the dark recesses of the cavern. "It probably isn't morning."  
  
"What's up?" Akane asked, noticing Ranma's distraction.  
  
"We may have to leave," Ranma replied, bristling. The redheaded girl rose  
to her feet and folded her arms. "I don't think it's safe here anymore."  
  
A burst of nervous energy detonated in Akane's stomach, her sleepy eyes  
opening fully and staring at Ranma. "What? What do you mean?"  
  
"I think they may have found us," Ranma replied grimly. Akane noticed   
Ranma's hand disappearing into her cloak.  
  
"They? The hunters? How do you know?" she asked, looking out into the   
darkness alongside her mentor.   
  
"I can ... I just know."  
  
Akane cast a sideways glance to Ranma. Perhaps this was some sort of test,  
to gauge her reactions. She swallowed nervously; the expression on Ranma's  
face did not lend any credence to her theory. She looked back to the   
shadows, eyes flitting back and forth, searching for any sign of an   
intruder.  
  
"Very perceptive, Afrit."  
  
A new, male voice echoed through the cavern. Akane jumped back a step,  
surprised. By the time she landed, Ranma's sword was already drawn and   
held aloft.  
  
With a disconcertingly casual movement, the shadows shifted, resolving into  
a human figure that stepped into the light of the torches. A face was   
revealed, bearing eyes that stared directly at Akane.   
  
Ranma's face.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane stared, open-mouthed, as the hunter stepped forward into the light.   
Buried beneath a billowing black cloak was ... Ranma. A taller, male   
Ranma, with jet-black hair tied into a ponytail that touched the floor, but   
Ranma nonetheless. The scars on his face matched Ranma's perfectly, the   
intensity burning behind his eyes was identical, the expression he bore was  
an exact replica.  
  
She stepped back, her throat suddenly dry, and looked back and forth   
between the two doppelgangers before her.  
  
"How the hell did you get in here?" Ranma called, keeping her sword centred  
upon the intruder.  
  
"Such hostility, Afrit!" the hunter boomed, voice thick with contempt.   
"Don't look so put-out. I'm not here for you, I'm here for the girl."  
  
Akane stepped back again as the hunter took another step toward her.  
  
Ranma swept into place before Akane, shielding her. She snarled viciously,  
pointing her sword toward the intruder.  
  
"You shouldn't have come here," she growled. "I won't let you touch her."  
  
"Always -interfering-, Waterskin, in things that don't concern you. Very  
well, then, if you wish to stand in my way, so be it."  
  
"Afrit? Waterskin? What is he talking about?" Akane asked, bewildered,   
looking over Ranma's shoulders. "Is he the one who killed my father?"  
  
"Oh, you don't know? Allow me to introduce Afrit. Waterskin. Shezbeth.   
Shafan. Kiyo. She goes by many names. It doesn't surprise me that she   
didn't mention this to you," the hunter intoned, piercing eyes fixing Akane  
with their gaze. "The truth does not come easily from her."  
  
"You have no right to speak of truth!" Ranma seethed at her taller twin.   
"Not while you wear that mask of lies!"  
  
"Temper, temper," replied the hunter, dismissively waving a hand at Ranma.  
He peered over Ranma's shoulder at Akane's face. "Tell me, what do -you-   
call her?"  
  
"R... Ranma," Akane replied, taking a step back, from both Ranma and the  
hunter. "What's going on?"  
  
"Ahhh, I see," the hunter replied, as if Ranma's name were a revelation.  
"_Ranma_. How quaint. It must make you feel almost human, Waterskin."  
  
Ranma clenched her fists, white knuckles straining around Garyoutensei's  
handle, burning with anger at the hunter. A low, gutteral growl strained  
to escape from between her tight lips.  
  
"Well, let's dispense with the pleasantries," the hunter continued,   
unsheating his sword. "I'm here for the child. Get out of my way,   
_Ranma_, or I'll have to hurt you."  
  
"I'll bleed you dry, you bastard!"   
  
"Ranma, wait--!" Akane called, but her words went unheeded by the two  
Ranmas.  
  
"Akane, stay back," Ranma instructed without looking back. Her voice was  
low, a feral growl that frightened Akane. "I'll protect you."  
  
Meekly, her sweaty grip upon Shoryoutensei loosening, Akane complied.  
  
* * *  
  
Two figures faced each other across a myriad of pools. The air hung heavy  
between them, a wall of steam, keeping the two apart. Garyoutensei threw  
off a harsh, angry light that infused the steam with a reddish glow.  
  
Unfazed by the waves of heat radiating from Ranma, the hunter stood his  
ground, sword pointed directly at his opponent's chest, straight and   
steady. He gave a confident smirk and beckoned Ranma to him.  
  
Ranma growled in barely-supressed fury and accepted the invitation.  
  
Garyoutensei arced gracefully through the fine mist, sailing straight and  
true toward its target, leaving swirls of steam in its wake. Ranma cried  
out, bringing forth a powerful overhead slash intended to cleave her   
opponent's skull in two.  
  
The hunter appeared calm, almost bored, as the pillar of fire hurtled   
toward him. At the last moment, he raised his sword to parry the attack,  
easily holding back Garyoutensei's fury. He looked up at the burning   
sword, giving the scorching air that crackled over his head an apathetic  
glance.  
  
"You'll have to do better than that," he remarked, casually. With a simple  
shove of his arm, he sent Ranma staggering backwards. "We've been   
training, Waterskin. You're no longer as strong or as fast as you think   
you are."  
  
Ranma said nothing; she skidded to a halt near a pool, and immediately   
leapt toward the hunter once more. Garyoutensei once more blazed a   
brilliant trail through the mist, and again the blow was blocked.  
  
Ranma adapted, quickly spinning to slash across the hunter's body, but it  
too was deflected. A high slash, a low swing, all were blocked. Suddenly,  
Ranma found herself on the defensive as a flurry of lightning-fast blows   
rained down upon her from, it seemed, all directions.  
  
With a snarl, Ranma focused her attention on deflecting the maelstrom of  
attacks, and found herself pushing back at her opponent.  
  
The pair drifted between the pools, trading blows with blinding speed.   
Garyoutensei sent flames flying in all directions with each strike, flames   
that burned hot enough to ignite the rock floor. Back and forth the two  
combatants weaved, locked in an impasse. Blow met counter-blow, swing met  
parry, offense met defense.   
  
Damn it, Ranma thought, this guy is good.  
  
Ranma ducked under a head-high swing and rolled across diagonally, catching  
the hunter in the stomach with a powerful kick in mid-roll. The hunter  
staggered back, off-balance for a moment, and Ranma took advantage,   
launching herself up into a back flip that sent her feet swinging up to   
impact on the hunter's chin. Landing with cat-like grace, Ranma raised her  
sword, ready to lunge forward again.  
  
"Not bad," the hunter observed, rubbing his chin. "That actually hurt a  
little. I'm impressed. However, it's not going to be enough."  
  
The hunter leapt into motion, blazing toward Ranma with superhuman speed.  
Ranma barely had a chance to move before his shoulder slammed into her   
chest, sending her rocketing backwards into the nearest wall. The cavern  
itself shook with the impact; small rocks, dislodged from the ceiling,   
rained down onto the floor below.  
  
Ranma slumped down against the wall, gasping for breath. She struggled to  
push herself up to her feet; a stabbing pain in her chest told her that she  
had several broken ribs. She winced, and clutched her chest, trying to get  
her bearings back. A dark shape loomed toward her, and she clumsily raised  
her sword toward it.  
  
The hunter stepped quickly over toward Ranma. A simple kick sent   
Garyoutensei spinning from her grasp to land on the ground nearby. He   
gripped her throat and with brutal force, yanked her upwards, throwing her  
back against the cracked rocks. He held her squirming body easily against   
the wall, her feeble struggles easily ignored. With a quick movement,   
brought his sword up, and rammed it into her chest, skewering her body with  
utter ease.   
  
Ranma's eyes flew open as the cold steel pierced her heart, a choked gasp  
escaping her lips as her body slumped, her arms and legs drooping uselessly  
against the wall. Blood trickled down the blade, warm red liquid staining  
the hunter's hands as he pinned her in place.  
  
With a smile of satisfaction, the hunter pulled Ranma's limp body from the  
wall, and using his sword to hold her up, carried her over toward the   
nearest spring.  
  
"Goodbye, Mother."  
  
Releasing the handle, the hunter watched as Ranma fell into the water with  
a tremendous splash, and quickly sank below the surface.   
  
* * *  
  
Akane stepped back, pressing herself up against the wall as the hunter   
turned his attention toward her. It had all happened so fast; she hadn't  
even had a chance to help, and now Ranma was ....  
  
She stared numbly at the pool, the waters rapidly turning crimson red. How  
had this happened? Only a moment ago she was speaking with Ranma, and now,  
Ranma was dead, at the bottom of a spring.  
  
Tears filling her eyes, she looked up at the dark hunter, a feeling of   
helplessness filling her as he stepped easily through the white-hot pools   
of liquid rock left behind by Garyoutensei. A weighty dread gripped her as  
she realised she would probably be joining Ranma very soon.  
  
The hunter drew near, a smile upon his face. His eyes fixed upon hers and   
he spoke, not in the booming voice of moments ago, but in a voice Akane   
somehow knew was Ranma's.  
  
"Come with me, Akane. I want to help you."  
  
And then, there was a colossal roar.  
  
* * *  
  
The hunter turned, eyes widening as Ranma's blood turned to fire; the calm   
waters of her grave were instantly transformed into a fiery inferno,   
belching forth clouds of dark smoke as the water burned. He gasped as   
Ranma leapt from the flames, twisting through the air, and landed hard on  
the rocky floor of the cavern.   
  
"How did ... how did you ...."  
  
Ranma rose slowly to her feet, staring at the hunter with eyes stained   
purest black as she gripped the handle of his sword. She yanked hard,   
wrenching the weapon free. The blade glowed red hot, hissing violently as   
she tossed it into a nearby spring.  
  
"Fool," she spoke, her voice a low rumble. "Now you will die."  
  
She thrust her arms back, throwing her cloak off her shoulders. A blast of   
heated air surged out from her, launching the garment into the air. The   
cloak shattered into a million droplets of liquid, each sizzling in the   
heat of the inferno behind her. It quickly evaporated, forming a dark mist  
that drifted upwards into the clouds of smoke.  
  
The hunter stepped back as Ranma advanced, her dark eyes burning with   
furious intensity, her hair glowing an ethereal hue of red. Her bared   
teeth gleamed dangerously in the light of the dozen fires that surrounded   
her.  
  
She held out one hand behind herself; Garyoutensei leapt from the floor and  
flew through the flames to her. She caught it easily and swept the sword   
forward in a slow arc, bringing it level to point at the hunter. A   
dangerous smile crept across her face.  
  
The hunter backed further away, but found his back pressing up against the  
wall. He desperately looked left, and right, but to no avail. He was  
trapped and unarmed. Cursing his arrogance, he threw caution to the winds  
and hurled himself toward Ranma. He charged at her with blinding speed,   
letting out a cry as he hurtled toward her. At the last moment he turned   
aside, attempting to dodge past her and turn toward the cave entrance.  
  
His last-ditch attempt was utterly unsuccessful; Ranma caught him easily, a  
scorchingly hot hand closing around his throat. She spun with him, letting  
his momentum carry him in a circle around her, and threw him face-first   
into the wall.   
  
His face shattered as he slammed into the hard rock wall. He slumped to   
the ground, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. The flaming intensity of   
Ranma's presence behind him only intensified the pain; he rolled over onto  
his back and looked up at her.  
  
"What ... what are you?" he rasped through his shattered jaw.  
  
"I'm not surprised they didn't tell you," Ranma replied, dark, empty eyes   
staring down at him. Gripping him by the throat, she yanked him upwards,   
and pinned him up against the wall. "The truth does not come easily from  
them."  
  
He squirmed desperately in her solid grip, knowing exactly what fate   
awaited him; knowing he was powerless to stop it. The desperation in his  
eyes faded, replaced by a hopeless resignation as he felt the heat of   
Garyoutensei draw near.  
  
Ranma pressed the tip of the blade to his chest and with excruciating   
slowness pushed it into his body. A scream of agony tore through his lips  
and echoed through the cavern as the fiery blade worked its way through his  
chest. She looked at him with half-lidded eyes as he writhed in agony, and  
leaned in close to his bloodied face, pressing her cheek to his.  
  
"I can taste your death," she breathed hotly into his ear. "Can you feel   
your soul burning?"  
  
A surge of unbearable heat tore through his body, scorching his mind as it  
seared him to the core. He tried to scream, but could not move his mouth.  
All he could do was watch, witness the joy on Ranma's face as she killed  
him.  
  
She leaned in and ran her tongue along his bloodied lips, purring into his  
mouth as she tasted his blood. She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him   
sensually in the very moment before his body and his soul turned to ash.  
  
* * *  
  
Thin wisps of smoke rose from the hunter's smouldering remains as Ranma   
stepped away, wild eyes scanning the cavern, looking for another soul to  
destroy, another death to create.  
  
Her search was fruitless; she was alone. Snarling in frustration, she  
started toward the cave entrance. There would be others outside. Others   
to find and kill.  
  
A wave of realisation slammed into her, a cold tsunami of dread that washed   
her fury away. If she was alone, where was Akane?  
  
Akane ....  
  
Garyoutensei fell from suddenly-numb hands; Ranma crumpled to her knees,  
hands pressing at her temples. What had she done?  
  
A droplet of black liquid fell from above, hissing as it struck the heated   
flesh of her arm. Crying out in pain, she grabbed at her forearm, nursing  
it to her chest as an icy sensation stabbed at her body.  
  
The first droplet was joined by another, and another, and another; in   
moments the dripping had become a downpour, black rain soaking Ranma's   
body, penetrating it with unbearable cold. She shrieked in agony, her mind  
attacked by a thousand stabbing, frozen needles. The cavern spun wildly  
before her, and suddenly all she could see was the ground.  
  
The liquid soaked Ranma's motionless body, running together to form small  
black puddles that quickly coalesced into larger puddles. It took only a  
few moments for the liquid to join together into one large mass that   
covered her body entirely.   
  
Ranma shivered uncontrollably, barely managing to hold on to her   
consciousness as the black mass folded around her, forming itself into the  
shape of her cloak.  
  
The pain slowly subsided, leaving her gasping for breath. She exhaled   
shakily, a puff of frozen mist rising from her mouth. The cold spread   
quickly through the cavern, extinguishing the raging fires as it went.  
The torches too succumbed to the frozen air, dying one by one until Ranma  
was left alone in the darkness.  
  
Dry smoke filling her lungs, the metallic taste of blood on her lips and  
sin dripping from her soul, she curled up into a ball and sobbed.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane sprinted wildly through the forest. She had no idea where she was  
going and her feet bled from the sharp edges of dozens of rocks, but she   
could not slow down.  
  
What she had seen had changed everything. Two black-clad demons trying to  
destroy each other. No matter what Ranma had tried to say to her, she had  
seen the proof for herself. Ranma was no better than the "hunter" she was  
fighting against. Both were killers, murderers. Monsters.  
  
The look in Ranma's eyes had told her everything she needed to know in an  
instant. Those eyes were not human. Humans did not survive being stabbed  
in the chest and drowned. Humans did not ... bleed fire.   
  
The moment she had seen Ranma's face, those eyes filled with hate, she had   
fled. Both Ranmas were too preoccupied to notice her leaving, and that   
served her purposes ideally. Whatever Ranma was, Akane wanted to be as far   
away from her as possible.  
  
There were no more questions to be asked.   
  
Trees and bushes flew past her as she charged through the forest, panting  
as she looked desperately left and right for some recognisable scenery.   
The valley had been fairly easy to traverse on the journey down, but   
without the benefit of an elevated vantage point, she found herself   
sprinting blindly uphill, hoping against hope that she was running in the  
right direction.   
  
The thought crossed her mind that she had no idea how far she had travelled  
from home. It had taken several days; it would take her even longer, since  
she would be guessing most of the way. All she knew was, she had to stay  
ahead of Ranma, who would surely be in pursuit.   
  
She did not need Ranma's protection. If anything, she needed protection  
from Ranma.  
  
She scanned the distance, trying to peer through the dense foliage as she  
battled her way up the steep valley incline. The trees seemed to stretch   
on forever; however, she rememered they reached barely halfway up the   
valley.   
  
Damn it, she thought, slowing to a stop as the daunting prospect of running  
all the way home finally sank in. She leaned forward, panting for breath  
as her muscles loudly complained.   
  
Her body dripped with sweat, and the humidity in the air doing little to  
help her cool down. The only part of her that was not hot was the hand   
that gripped Shoryoutensei; the sword chilled her hand to the bone. She   
tried, unsucessfully, to ignore it.  
  
She straightened, letting out a deep breath as her momentary rest came to   
an end, and prepared to continue up the hill. The journey ended after only  
one step. A loud cracking sound burst through Akane's ears as the ground  
beneath her gave way, sending her tipping forward into a deep abyss.  
  
* * *  
  
A panicked yelp echoed back and forth along the thin crevasse as Akane  
dangled by one arm, swaying back and forth in the cold wind that buffeted  
the moist walls.  
  
She swung her head around wildly, taking huge gulps of air as she tried to  
orient herself. Dizziness gripped her head as she started to   
hyperventilate. With considerable effort she managed to still her body,   
closing her eyes and resting her forehead against the rock wall until her  
breathing slowed to something resembling normal.  
  
Oh gods oh gods oh gods I'm going to die, she thought in a flurry, panic  
fighting to take control of her brain. She tried to calm herself and think  
of a way out of her situation, but the quivering sensation of dread that  
lingered in the bottom of her stomach kept crawling upwards no matter how  
hard she tried to ignore it.  
  
She cursed her inattentiveness as she looked up at the broken tree root  
above her; the ground had not been ground at all, merely a cluster of tree  
roots overgrown with weeds and moss. As a result of her midjudgement she  
dangled precariously, a tenuous grip upon a wet, rocky outcrop the only   
thing between her and the jagged rocks far below.  
  
Glancing upward, she noticed another clump of rocks that stood out from the  
edge, but it was much too high for her to reach, and so she dangled,   
rocking back and forth on an arm that was growing ever more tired.  
  
What the hell do I do now?  
  
She looked down, trying to find a ledge, or some other foothold to take the  
weight off her arm, but could see only blackness below her feet. She   
swallowed nervously, and adjusted the grip of her exceedingly sweaty hand   
upon the single handhold she could reach.  
  
A featherlight touch upon the back of her neck made her jump in surprise,  
very nearly losing the loose hold she had. She looked upwards, and saw the  
outline of a head at the mouth of the abyss. A long red ponytail dangled  
down, its tip touching ticklishly against the back of Akane's neck. Two   
deep blue eyes, wide with concern, stared down at her.  
  
"Akane, give me your hand," Ranma instructed, her voice reverberating   
through the chasm as she reached her hand down into the blackness.  
  
"No way!" Akane called back, voice filled with panic. "Get the hell away  
from me! I'll get out of here myself, and then I'm going home!"  
  
"Please, let me help you," Ranma pleaded. "There's no other way."  
  
"I don't need help from demons!"  
  
A long silence followed, punctuated only by the echoed grunts of Akane's   
struggle to hang on to the wall.  
  
"You saw that?" Ranma asked softly, her voice heavy with dejection as it  
tumbled down into the chasm. She looked away from Akane, down into the  
abyss. Her voice grew tiny, its tone sad. "I'm not a demon."  
  
"Liar!" Akane shrieked, eyes filled with betrayal and anger. "I saw you  
die! You said you'd tell me the truth but you didn't tell me anything!   
For all I know, you might want to kill me too! This is probably just some   
sick -game- you're playing with me."  
  
Ranma flinched, wincing at the ferocity of the accusation.  
  
"I ... I'm sorry," she lamented, "I didn't want you to know. I thought   
I would be able to get you through this without ... telling you the truth.  
I'm sorry, Akane. I thought it was for the best."  
  
"I don't even care anymore," Akane called defiantly, as she struggled to   
grip the wall with her bare feet. "I don't even want to -know-. I just   
want to go home. You can keep your hunters, and you can keep your sword."  
  
"At least let me explain--"  
  
"I don't want to hear it! Just leave me alone!"  
  
"Akane," Ranma said with a sigh, "if you don't take my help, you're going  
to fall, and you're going to die. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't be  
trying to help you out, would I?"  
  
Akane said nothing, the sound of her feet slipping against the moist rock  
her only response.  
  
"I don't want you to die," Ranma added after a time. "I ... can't let you  
die."  
  
"Why would I believe that any more than any of your other lies?" Akane   
asked, her voice straining as she struggled to lift herself upwards.  
  
Ranma looked into Akane's eyes, chewing her lip apprehensively as she   
watched the Tendo girl struggle for her life. She sighed in resignation,  
and closed her eyes.  
  
"All right, the truth," she said, her tone suggesting she regretted the   
words the moment they left her mouth.   
  
"Akane ... I am eight hundred and ninety-four years old."  
  
The sounds from the crevasse ceased as Akane stared upwards in shock.   
"What?"  
  
"I was born in what would have been the year eleven hundred and eight. For  
nearly nine hundred years, I have served as a guardian for your ancestors.  
One by one, I watched each and every one of them die before their time.   
I ... can't bear to see you join them. Please, Akane. Serving your family  
is all I know. Let me help you."  
  
"You're ... serious, aren't you?"  
  
Ranma nodded silently.  
  
Akane stared up into Ranma's eyes as they opened. The sincerity, the   
shame, that hung in those blue eyes pushed aside any doubt in her mind.   
Finally, Ranma was telling her the truth.  
  
Akane looked hard into Ranma's eyes for just a moment longer. She tossed   
Shoryoutensei upwards, watching the sword as it flew out of the crevasse to  
fall to the ground nearby, and reached upwards with her sword hand toward   
her companion.  
  
Ranma lowered herself into the abyss and with one outstretched hand,   
managed to take hold of Akane's. "Thank you," she said, as their hands   
touched, "for believing me."  
  
* * *  
  
The deep grey clouds parted for a moment, letting a ray of moonlight break   
through, if only for a short time. Akane squinted her eyes and watched the  
light creep out of existence as the clouds squeezed together to close the  
gap once more. She lay flat on her back, breathing heavily as she rubbed  
at her aching shoulder.  
  
"Just because I let you help me," she commented, "doesn't mean I trust   
you."  
  
Ranma stood off a small distance away, facing away from Akane. Her usual  
habit of looking off into the distance had been displaced by a new   
preoccupation with the ground at her feet.  
  
"I ... don't blame you. I wouldn't trust me if I were you."  
  
"So tell me why I should trust you. Tell me why I shouldn't be walking   
home right now, or that's exactly what I'll be doing."  
  
"The only reason I didn't tell you everything from the beginning was for   
your own protection. The less you know, the better. I just didn't want   
you to ... to think I'm a monster."  
  
"I saw your face when you came out of that spring, Ranma. I saw something  
that terrified me. I want to know why you think I shouldn't be afraid,   
because right now, I ... I'm terrified of you."  
  
"Please don't say that," Ranma replied, her voice barely more than a   
whisper. "I could never hurt you."  
  
"Why? You haven't even known me for very long. What makes me so special?"  
  
"I swore to my father ... I ... I've spent my entire life trying to defend  
your ancestors from the hunters. Every single time, I have failed. Every  
single time. Gods, I can still see their faces every time I close my eyes.  
  
"Nothing means more to me than keeping my promise, Akane," Ranma said, eyes  
moist as she turned to look at her companion. "You are the last of your   
entire family tree. Your father married into your family, and your mother   
is dead. If you die, everything I've tried to accomplish for nine hundred  
years means nothing. Protecting you is the only thing I care about now."  
  
Akane reeled, taken aback by Ranma's confession. She looked into Ranma's  
eyes, saw the hurt that lingered, everpresent, behind them.   
  
"I don't know what to say," she admitted at length. "Why ... why is my   
family so special?"  
  
"My father knew that, but he didn't tell me. I'm sure I'll find out one  
day, but that day hasn't yet come."  
  
"So you're just ... waiting for that day?"  
  
"When you live as long as I have, you do a lot of waiting," Ranma said with  
a nod.  
  
"You've been doing this for over eight hundred years? And you can't die?"  
  
"Death has abandoned me," Ranma said, turning away again. "It's taken away  
everyone I've ever known, but it refuses to come for me. I imagine most   
people think of immortality as a wonderful gift, but they are wrong. Who   
would wish for such a thing? What stain does my soul carry that even death  
refuses to touch it?"  
  
Akane said nothing, letting the question hang in the air between them. She  
tried to imagine what such a life would be like but could not even begin to  
comprehend a life of eight hundred years.  
  
"I want to help you, Akane. I want to keep my promise. The hunters will  
keep coming for you, and I will stop them."  
  
* * *  
  
"Tell me about the hunters. You know more than you're letting on."  
  
Ranma sighed as she wrapped strips of fabric torn from her pants around   
Akane's injured feet. She finished one foot and tied off the makeshift  
bandage tightly. Lowering the foot to the ground again, she dusted off her  
hands and raised the other foot.  
  
"They are led by a group that calls themselves the Phoenix. They are just  
lackeys doing what they are told."  
  
"So, they are the ones that killed my mother?"  
  
"The Phoenix gave the order; the hunters just do what they are told. I   
don't think, individually, they are very smart."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Akane asked, wincing as Ranma tightened the bandage  
around her ankle.  
  
"Well, they probably wouldn't keep trying to kill me if they knew I was  
immortal. They therefore can't be very bright."  
  
"I guess not," Akane hesitantly agreed. "Maybe they're just   
overconfident."  
  
"The hunter you saw was after you. He probably hadn't been told to fight   
me; I just got in the way. Too bad for him, I guess."  
  
Ranma pulled the fabric tightly around Akane's foot, and tied it off. She  
lowered the foot to the ground and stood, looking down at Akane. The   
expression on the Tendo girl's face made it clear what she was wondering.  
  
"You're probably wondering why he looked like me," Ranma surmised.  
  
"Of course I am," Akane admitted. "He called you 'Mother'. Truth be told,  
it scared the hell out of me."  
  
"Like I said; not that smart. I'm not his mother."  
  
"What, then?"  
  
"The truth of the matter is," Ranma said with a sigh, as she slowly lowered  
herself to sit and leaned up against a tree, "he was a Hidari, a copy of   
me. Phoenix grew him in their flesh vats, based on my genes."  
  
"What? Why?" Akane asked, recoiling in horror. "And ... -how-?"  
  
"How, I don't know. Why ... well, they've tried everything they can think   
of to kill me, but nothing has ever worked. I suppose they thought the   
only weapon strong enough to kill me would be ... me."  
  
"So they ... cloned you?"  
  
Ranma nodded. "It's a strange thought, isn't it?"  
  
Akane suppressed a shudder. "It's sick. You're ... kidding, right?"  
  
"I wish I were," Ranma replied with a sigh. "Hidari are remarkable copies,   
physically alike in every way to the original. But, they are not perfect.   
They're slower, weaker, and mortal."  
  
"If they're copies of you, why was it a ... you know ... a boy?"  
  
"If I knew, I'd tell you," Ranma replied with a shrug. "All of the Hidari  
I've come across have been boys."  
  
"So you ... fight yourself."  
  
"Yes. I find them, and I kill them."  
  
* * *  
  
"Which way?"  
  
Ranma looked up to Akane, who stood atop a small mound of earth, looking  
questioningly back at her. The Tendo girl hobbled slightly on her injured  
feet, so Ranma had stayed behind her, not wanting to rush her.  
  
"We should head west. The most important thing is that we get away from  
Tokyo. Now another Hidari is dead, Phoenix will send more into this area   
to find out what happened. If we're still here, that means trouble for   
us."  
  
"Wait - is my father going to be all right? I'm not leaving if he's in   
danger, and--"  
  
"Your father doesn't matter to them," Ranma replied, holding up a hand to  
silence Akane. "You are their target, not him."  
  
"Are you sure?" Akane asked, looking Ranma dead in the eye. "Absolutely  
sure?"  
  
"I'm certain. Your concern for him is admirable, but unnecessary. He's in  
no danger."  
  
"I won't let anything happen to him, Ranma. Tell me the truth."  
  
"I swear, Akane. The further away from him you are, the less danger he is  
in. He doesn't know where you are - they have no interest in him. I   
promise, he will be fine."  
  
"All right," Akane relented, still sounding unconvinced. She had seen what  
the Hidari had done to Ranma, and knew her father would stand no chance.   
It pained her greatly to leave her father alone knowing those ... things   
were out there, but if Ranma was speaking the truth, leaving was the best  
thing she could do for him. "Let's go. West it is."  
  
Ranma nodded, following Akane up onto the mound and watching her step down  
off it. A glimmer of blue atop Akane's head caught her eye; she blinked in  
surprise and looked closer. A thin streak of deep blue mingled amongst   
the Tendo girl's hair, stretching from the centre of her forehead in a   
jagged line toward the nape of her neck.  
  
Oh gods, she thought, it's happening already.  
  
"Are you going to come, or are you going to stand there all day?"  
  
Akane's voice snapped Ranma out of her reverie. She was some distance   
further away, looking impatiently over her shoulder.  
  
"I thought you said we were in a rush," she continued.  
  
"Sorry," Ranma replied, tearing her eyes from Akane's hair as she stepped   
down off the mound. "Let's go."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	6. Chinese Whispers

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
"Chinese Whisper"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Ranma ran wildly through the trees, foliage snapping across his face as he  
weaved desperately through the forest. Panting hard, forcing air into  
protesting lungs, he surged forward, jumping across a small ditch.  
  
His eyes stung with tears, his face bled from twigs scraping across it,  
his shoulders ached from the limp weight of his father upon them. His hand  
burned, too; heat from the handle of his father's sword seared his skin.   
Ignoring the pain, he gripped the sword more tightly.  
  
Where the hell am I going?  
  
"Go back to our home," Genma spoke, voice drifting over Ranma's shoulder.  
"Continue the Saotome legacy. Find ... Kayoko."  
  
"Kayoko?" Ranma thought, puzzled. "Why?"  
  
"Go, Boy," Genma groaned. "I'll ... delay them. Go, and survive."  
  
Ranma stumbled, throwing his arms out in front of himself to soften the  
landing as the ground screamed toward him. Flashes of green and brown   
filled his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he braced for the  
impact - but as suddenly as it had appeared, the ground fizzled out of   
existence, leaving a gaping chasm in its wake.  
  
He tumbled end over end into the fissure, the sight that greeted his eyes  
flooding his heart with terror. The jagged grey cliff below him   
descended into the frothy ocean, the fall seeming infinite as he plunged  
helplessly downwards. He whirled around, gasping for breath as the air  
rushed upwards past him, and looked upwards for something, anything, to   
hang on to.  
  
Genma's face stared down at him from the top of the cliff. Ranma tried to  
scream out for his father, to cry out for help, but his voice was scattered  
to the winds.  
  
A scorching pain filled Ranma's gut; he did not have to look away from his  
father to know the family blade was lodged deep inside him. His father   
closed his eyes and turned away from the cliff, leaving Ranma on his own.  
The roar of the ocean below, that had once seemed distant and abstract, was  
suddenly forced into sharp focus, drowning out all other sound as Ranma   
sank toward his doom.  
  
A monstrous wave arose beneath him, curling liquid fingers upwards to catch  
its prey. With a tremendous splash, the water devoured him.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma sat up with a jolt, fingers grabbing the soft fabric beneath her   
sweat-soaked body. The darkness around her melted away as her eyes   
adjusted to the lack of light, revealing a sparse, quiet room. A tatami   
mat greeted her fingertips as they wandered past the edges of the blanket  
she had been sleeping on. She panted, and slowly raised her hand to her   
forehead.   
  
Gods, not that dream again, she thought in annoyance as she tried to catch  
her breath.  
  
A musty scent filled her nose, a vague trace of sake hanging in the air to  
tickle her nose as she took in the empty moonlit walls around her. For a  
moment, she thought of her father, imagined him asleep with an empty bottle  
tucked under his arm. Snoring, of course, with not a care in the world.  
  
She shook her head, dismissing the unwelcome reminiscence. She became   
aware of the distant chirping of insects, but the sound was quickly pushed   
out of her mind by the two questions buzzing back and forth in her brain.  
  
Where am I? And how did I get here?  
  
"So you intend to marry him?"  
  
The bassy voice, its edges softened by what Ranma could only guess was the   
sake, crept into the room. It came from beneath what Ranma now realised   
was a drape hung down over a doorway on the far wall. She stared intently,   
not recognising the speaker. The words were Japanese, which came as   
something of a relief, but did little to ease the creeping discomfort that   
prickled her skin as it crawled down her spine.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The second voice Ranma recognised as Shampoo's. Ranma wondered for a   
brief moment why the Amazon never mentioned her ability to speak Japanese,  
but the thought was dismissed by a rather more important question - marry  
_who_?  
  
Ranma crawled silently toward the drape and pressed her ear to it, the   
questions surrounding her arrival in her current situation pushed aside by  
an all-consuming curiosity. Who was this person? And why was Shampoo   
speaking to him of marriage?  
  
"If you care so much about him, why haven't you already?"  
  
"Shampoo want to," Shampoo replied with a sigh that crept like a ghost   
beneath the drape, "but elders no agree. Say Mousse must beat Amazon   
womans to marry Shampoo, but Mousse no good at fighting."  
  
"Disobeying your elders is an act without honour," noted the male voice.  
  
"Shampoo no want disobey elders, so Shampoo no marry Mousse. We try think   
of way, but now Shampoo belong to Ranma, so have to wait for Mousse until  
Shampoo go back to China."  
  
"You belong to that girl?"  
  
Ranma frowned at the notion, imagining an accusing finger pointing at her  
through the thin drape. Shampoo did not "belong" to her. By the sounds of  
it, she "belonged" to this Mousse person, whoever that was.  
  
"Shampoo have debt of honour. Ranma is Shampoo master until debt paid. Is  
Amazon way."  
  
"You would make a fine warrior!" came the reply with a hearty chuckle.   
"Your master must appreciate a servant with such a finely tuned sense of  
honour."  
  
Silence hung in the air for a few moments, and Ranma pulled herself away  
from the drape. The depths of Shampoo's sacrifice were only just beginning  
to become clear to Ranma. The Amazon girl had given up her family, her  
home, her love, to follow the demands of honour.  
  
The man, whoever he was, was right - Ranma did indeed appreciate Shampoo's  
company, even if she had not realised it before. Shampoo's demonstration   
of dedication only firmed Ranma's resolve to keep her promise to her   
father. She would return home, she would find Kayoko.  
  
"Shampoo ... never have master before. Is strange to think of."  
  
"Well, then, I shall tell you how I came into my lord's service. Perhaps  
you shall learn something. If she is your master, you must learn how to  
treat her with respect."  
  
Ranma crawled away from the drape and returned to the warmth of the blanket   
to think. She would keep her promise. She yawned, and felt her eyes   
drifting closed. She tried to fight it, but could not muster up the   
strength.  
  
She would keep her promise, once she had slept some more. As soon as she   
could shake off the oppressive tiredness that dogged her. She did not know   
how long she had slept for, but she did not feel as if she had rested at   
all.   
  
"But first," the male voice resonated beneath the drape once more, its deep  
tone unable to reach Ranma's mind as she drifted back to sleep. "Let us  
drink, to Amazons, and warriors, and honour!"  
  
* * *  
  
Several hours passed before Ranma emerged, bleary-eyed, from the small room  
in which she had slept. She yawned, still tired, and glanced around to see  
exactly where it was she had been taken to. The last thing she could   
remember was swimming, and a tingle of excitement in her stomach at the   
sight of a distant shoreline.  
  
She staggered through the doorway, her legs shakily holding her upright as  
she propped herself against the doorway. Her muscles protested her every  
movement, causing her to wince with every step. Her joints creaked with   
every movement, filling her with the momentary dread that her very bones   
could snap in half every time she moved.  
  
Sunlight streamed into the large room before her. Tatami lined the floor,  
which was dominated by a large table placed at its centre. Several empty  
sake bottles lay strewn across the table, and beyond it lay a disheveled  
Shampoo, curled up against the wall, asleep.  
  
Ranma stepped gingerly over to the table and looked down at it, stunned by  
the sheer number of empty bottles. Her father had been quite the sake  
drinker, but she couldn't imagine him emptying so many bottles in one   
night. Shampoo had presumably never even seen sake before, let alone built   
up any sort of tolerance for it, so that left only their host. She  
scratched her head, impressed by his fortitude.  
  
"Do not be angry at your servant; it is I who gave her the sake."  
  
Ranma jumped in surprise then spun in place, instinctively dropping back   
into a loose defensive stance. She wobbled on unsteady feet, wondering how  
this person had managed to hide his presence from her so well.  
  
The man smiled down at her, his broad muscular face creasing at the edges  
as he did. He was middle-aged, and looked to be in excellent condition.   
He was clothed entirely in black, the only variation in colour being his  
skin and the flecks of grey that streaked through his hair.  
  
"Greetings, Miss Saotome," he spoke, his voice a bassy rumble as he bowed  
courteously to her. "Welcome to my humble abode."  
  
Sensing no danger from the man, Ranma allowed herself to relax a little,   
and slowly, painfully bowed in return. "Thanks for the shelter."  
  
"You are most welcome," the man replied, straightening once more. "I am  
Hojo Yoshimasa, servant to Lord Shingen. Please, sit, I shall prepare some  
food."  
  
"I'm fine, thanks," Ranma replied. She was not overly hungry, but the more   
pressing reason was that she doubted she could get up again if she sat   
down. She turned to look once more at the unconscious form of Shampoo. "Is  
she okay?"  
  
"She is fine," Hojo commented. "However, I do not envy the headache she   
will have when she wakes up."  
  
"She shouldn't be drinking sake," Ranma commented, angry memories of her  
father's all-too-frequent drunken escapades surfacing in her mind. He   
introduced her to sake four years prior, and she had never developed a   
taste for it. Aside from the unpleasant taste, the thought of her father's  
foolish drunken behaviour was a sizable deterrent.   
  
"Please, do not hold it against her. She is a fine servant. It is my   
fault, and for that I apologise. I kept her up half the night with my  
stories and my sake. Please, forgive me."  
  
"She's not my servant," Ranma said with a sigh, turning back toward her   
host. A flash of annoyance shot through her, and she quickly changed the  
subject. "Where am I? How did I get here?"   
  
"The southernmost tip of Honshu," Hojo replied. "I was patrolling the   
boundaries of my master's land, when I came across the two of you on the   
beach. You were unconscious, and Shampoo was pulling you out of the water.  
Well, she was trying to."  
  
"She ... must have been tired," Ranma guessed. Swimming from China was  
hardly a small undertaking.  
  
"Exhausted. Swimming from China?" Hojo asked in sheer disbelief, shaking  
his head. "I have not heard of a more foolish feat. The very fact you   
survived the trip at all both impresses and frightens me."  
  
"So she was pulling me out of the ocean?" Ranma asked, eager to avoid   
dwelling upon the folly of the trip from China.  
  
"Indeed. If she had not, you most likely would have drowned. When I found  
you, I bought you both back here. That was two days ago."  
  
"Two days?" Ranma mouthed in disbelief. "I've been asleep for two days?"  
  
Hojo nodded. "Shampoo seemed convinced you were going to die."  
  
"So she ... saved my life," Ranma muttered, turning away from Hojo once   
more. Fists clenched by her sides, she stepped toward the table, her   
thoughts awhirl.   
  
She could make no sense of Shampoo. First, the Amazon was trying to kill   
her. Now, Shampoo had saved her life. The angry loathing she had felt   
since the moment her father's chest had been skewered by an Amazon arrow  
bubbled to the surface, but was forced to mingle with a growing curiosity  
and a newfound respect for the girl.   
  
Gods, I'll never understand women, Ranma thought bitterly. What the hell  
am I supposed to do with her now?  
  
Utterly confused, she let out a deep sigh and looked down at the empty   
bottles on the table. Somehow, the thought of downing a bottle of alcohol  
did not seem quite so unappealing anymore.  
  
"She understands the meaning of honour. She threw her life to the wind  
to pull yours back to safety. Truly the most profound privilege any   
servant can hope for. You should be proud of her."  
  
"I'll thank her when she wakes up," Ranma grumbled, not feeling at all   
proud. How could she thank the girl who murdered her father? She felt   
torn in opposing directions; her father's blood demanded the death of his  
killer, but she could not kill Shampoo. The very thought of it sent a   
shudder of revulsion trickling down her spine. She could not kill anyone.  
  
She imagined her father looking down upon her, eyes cast down in shame at  
his impotent daughter, his worthless offspring, who could not even avenge  
his meaningless death.  
  
Daughter?  
  
"I need some hot water," she growled to Hojo, the sudden ferocity in her   
voice surprising even herself. Her father had a thousand reasons to feel  
ashamed of her - this was one she could do something about. The Amazons  
could no longer stop her.  
  
"Certainly," Hojo responded, surprise evident in his voice. "Please,   
wait here, I'll bring some to you."  
  
* * *  
  
Hot, soothing water cascaded down over Ranma's head, trickling down through  
her hair to tickle the back of her neck with delicious warmth, sending an  
envious shiver through the rest of her body. She splashed herself   
liberally with water from the pot, revelling in the heat against her skin.   
  
Gods, this feels good, she thought. How long has it been since I had a   
bath?  
  
She held her eyes closed, treasuring the comforting warmth. For a brief  
time, she imagined herself sitting in a bath, her cares washed away as  
easily as dust. For a moment, she was free.   
  
Her carefree flight of fancy was sent spiralling to Earth with a chilling  
realisation. Her hands brushed lightly over her body, traversing her   
feminine curves. Her fingertips traced along her ribs and up to the gentle  
swell of her breasts, her palms coming to rest against them. She   
swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and opened her eyes.  
  
Breasts. She -still- -had- -breasts-.  
  
"Oh, Gods ... no ...."  
  
It seemed almost comical. Her father was dead. Her life was in utter   
disarray. She was alone, with nowhere to call home, no-one to fall back  
upon. To top it all off, in the most bizarre turn of events she had ever  
been unfortunate enough to be a part of, she was trapped in a girl's body.  
  
A girl. She was a girl. The cure didn't work.  
  
A choked laugh escaped her as her mind, numb with horror, failed to   
comprehend. Somewhere high above, the gods were laughing at her, toying  
with her. Her life was over. How could she be a girl? To be a strong,  
manly successor to her father was the only thing she had ever been taught.  
To take the family legacy and pass it on to the next generation. It was   
what she had been raised to do, and now it was all gone.  
  
A girl. A weak, pathetic, useless girl.   
  
The very thought of it pushed her already stressed mind beyond its breaking  
point; her consciousness folded in upon itself, leaving behind a single  
emotion - absolute terror. Her mind screamed, her heart screamed. She   
closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and let the screams escape.  
  
* * *  
  
"Can you hear me, Master?"  
  
Ranma groaned, a sharp pain burning in the back of her mind as Shampoo's  
words dragged her back to consciousness. The pain ignored, Ranma forced   
her eyes to open. Perhaps, she dared to hope, it was all a dream.  
  
"What ... happened?"  
  
Her hopes died the moment the words left her mouth, the sound of her own  
voice betraying the illusion. She was still a girl. Her eyes closed   
again, the will to open them drained away.  
  
"You're okay! Oh, Master, I'm so glad!"  
  
Ranma felt Shampoo's arms wrap around her, the warmth of the Amazon's body  
next to hers. She wanted to scream obscenities, to shove Shampoo away, but  
she simply lay there, wrapped in her misery, wondering what on Earth to do  
next.  
  
She wanted to ask if Shampoo knew something about the curse, perhaps why   
the hot water had not worked, and why the hell the Amazon kept referring to   
her as "Master", but she could not bring herself to speak. For a moment,   
she had to stop, rest, and give herself up to the darkness behind her   
eyelids.  
  
The warmth around her dissipated as she felt Shampoo pull back from the   
unwelcome embrace. She let out a deep sigh. One problem at a time. She  
was Ranma Saotome, and she never let a challenge get her down. She   
wouldn't let this curse beat her. Opening her eyes would be the first   
step.  
  
"Master, what happened to your hair?"  
  
The absurdity of the question took Ranma by surprise. Here she was,   
pondering the end of her life as she knew it, and Shampoo was concerned   
about hair?  
  
"What?" she asked, irresistible curiosity parting the bleak cloud that hung  
over her. She opened her eyes and looked upon Shampoo. "What do you   
mean?"  
  
"Your hair," Shampoo commented, reaching down with a finger to gently brush   
its tip through Ranma's locks. "It's ... red."  
  
Ranma raised herself slowly into a sitting position, ignoring the irregular  
waves of dizziness that gripped her, and looked down toward the ground.   
Near the toppled pot of water was a small puddle, and in it was reflected   
her face.   
  
Shampoo had spoken the truth; as Ranma looked, she noticed a small,   
zig-zagged strip of bright red that ran through her black hair, starting  
just above her forehead and curving off to one side. Reaching up, she  
gingerly brought one hand to touch the small coloured patch.   
  
She half-expected her fingers to touch dried blood, but they felt only   
smooth hair. A puzzled look crossed her face as she pondered this new  
development.  
  
What the hell is going on?  
  
* * *  
  
A parade of cherry blossoms streamed by on the breeze, settling one after  
the other upon the surface of a small pond, each sending ripples dancing  
across the surface. Some stayed upon the water; others were caught by the  
next gust of air and sent skywards once more, to find another destination.  
  
Ranma sat quietly upon the grass, watching the blossoms as the wind tossed  
them with reckless abandon. She felt strangely connected to them: cut off,  
alone, drifting wherever the wind may blow. The past few weeks of her life  
had given her much to think about.  
  
Her life. Her. That thought alone was an endlessly uncomfortable   
distraction. How on Earth was she ever going to cope with being a girl?   
  
She pondered for a moment swimming back to China, speaking with Cologne   
again, searching for a cure. She did not remember the way back to   
Jusenkyo, but surely she would recall once she was in China again.  
  
Two fireflies flitted out from the nearby bushes and darted back and forth  
across the pond, twitching back and forth across the moonlit water. The  
realisation that she had been watching the pond for several hours struck  
Ranma, but was quickly dismissed. Did it really matter?  
  
"Feeling better, I hope, Miss Saotome."  
  
"Yeah," she replied, without turning away from the pond. She had not felt   
Hojo's approach, but she did not care. Such things seemed trivial now.   
"No more fainting."  
  
"For that, I am glad. I was most concerned," Hojo replied, coming up   
alongside Ranma. He sat beside her. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion.  
I wouldn't want to interrupt your meditation."  
  
"It's fine," Ranma replied. Meditation? She had never really believed in   
it. The only "meditation" her father had ever demonstrated was usually a  
result of a late night drinking binge, and was always followed in turn by  
a very grumpy, hung-over Genma the next morning. "I was just thinking."  
  
"You've been outside for quite some time. Might I ask, what you were   
thinking about?" Hojo inquired, a curious expression on his face. "Your   
expression gives the impression that you are carrying the weight of the   
world upon your shoulders. It does not belong on such a beautiful face."  
  
Ranma shuddered with revulsion at the compliment, drawing her knees up   
toward her chest and closing her arms around them. She sighed, knowing   
Hojo, in his ignorance, was trying to be nice. "I was thinking about   
heading back to China to find a cure for my curse."  
  
"Ah yes, this curse," Hojo said thoughtfully, a hand stroking his chin.   
"What ailment is this that can be cured so easily with hot water? If it's  
to do with your hair, I would not bother. I think it looks quite stylish."  
  
"It's a long story, and it's not the hair," replied Ranma with a sigh. She  
did not feel like explaining. She would also rather Hojo not think her   
insane.  
  
"I see," Hojo commented. "Why would you want to go back to China?"  
  
"To find a proper cure, a cure that works," Ranma replied with a small   
shrug of her shoulders. "Besides, Shampoo wants to go home."  
  
"That is true," Hojo agreed, "but she does not want to return yet."  
  
"Huh? What makes you say that?"  
  
"Shampoo and I had a ... long talk last night," Hojo explained, with a   
smile. "And we've been talking whilst you've been out here. Lovely girl.  
She is quite enthusiastic about helping you find this Kayoko girl. She   
said it seemed important to you."  
  
"It's important to me," Ranma replied, narrowing her eyes, "not to her."  
  
"Miss Saotome, I would like to share a little secret with you. Call it  
wisdom, if you like: She is your servant. If it is important to you, it  
is important to her."  
  
Ranma frowned, irritated at the repeated reference to Shampoo as if she   
were some sort of slave. It was Shampoo's decision to come to Japan, Ranma  
had told her to stay behind in China. She refused to feel guilty about  
Shampoo's situation.  
  
"My master, Lord Shingen, is currently in Kyoto. He is meeting with other  
lords to discuss a grave problem that faces them. There are rumblings of  
dissent amongst warriors such as myself; some feel they are the rightful  
holders of power, and that the nobility should stand aside and let them  
rule. I know this, because my master knows this. If such a shift in power  
were to occur, I would almost certainly become the lord of this region, but  
I hope with all of my heart that this never comes to pass."  
  
"Why?" Ranma asked.  
  
"Because I would sooner die than see such a fate befall my master. He   
means everything to me, Miss Saotome, and long ago I promised I would give  
my life to stop such an uprising if it were to occur.   
  
"I told this story to Shampoo last night," Hojo continued. "She is   
beginning to understand what it means to accept a master."  
  
"So that's why she keeps calling me 'Master'," Ranma observed. "It's your   
fault."  
  
"Yes," Hojo admitted with a jovial chuckle. "You may hold me accountable  
if you wish. Shampoo has a strong sense of honour - I just ... helped it  
to emerge."  
  
"So that means she's going to keep doing it," Ranma grumbled. "Thanks a  
lot, I appreciate that."  
  
"What it means," Hojo corrected, "is that she will stand with you on your  
journey. Few are gifted with such good fortune, Miss Saotome."  
  
Good fortune? Ranma pondered Hojo's words. He was right, in a way - she  
probably would have drowned if Shampoo had not been there to pull her from  
the ocean.  
  
"I guess it would be nice to have someone to talk to," Ranma begrudgingly  
admitted.  
  
"The longest journey begins with a single step," Hojo observed. "You've  
just made yours."  
  
Ranma nodded, admitting to herself that Hojo had a point. Shampoo would   
not want to return to her village, or China, until her honour had been  
restored.   
  
Ranma supposed that finding a cure could wait. She had promised her father  
she would find Kayoko, and she could do that just as well as a girl. Once  
she had kept her promise, then she could afford to go back to China.   
  
She watched as one final gust of wind scattered a small group of cherry   
blossoms further and further from the tree. For the blossoms, there was no  
turning back.  
  
"I guess the next step will be toward Edo," Ranma stated, voice firmed by a   
newfound resolve. "I have to find Kayoko."  
  
* * *  
  
"You'll need to be careful. There are many who would be tempted by the   
sight of two girls travelling alone. I feel I should accompany you to  
provide protection, but my duties bind me to my master's home."  
  
"Don't worry," Ranma replied. "We'll be fine."  
  
"Of that I have no doubt," Hojo agreed with a smile. "But, Edo is a long  
way away. Perhaps not as far as China, but you still must be careful on   
this journey."  
  
Ranma nodded, and for the first time in far too long, smiled. Hojo was a   
kind man, a good man, with wisdom beyond his years. She briefly wondered  
what it would have been like to study under him. She bowed respectfully to  
him.  
  
"Thank you for the advice, and the lodgings," she said. "I, uh ...   
thanks."  
  
"You are most welcome, Miss Saotome," Hojo replied, returning the bow. "I  
have enjoyed your stay. If you find yourself near here again, please stop  
by. You are welcome to stay again."  
  
"Thank you. I'm ... glad to have met you."  
  
"Master," Shampoo's voice came from behind Ranma, "I've packed our things,  
we're ready to go."  
  
Ranma turned toward Shampoo and nodded at the Amazon's silhouette,   
surrounded by the glow of the rising sun. The possessions of which Shampoo  
spoke were few; some clothes, and some food supplied by Hojo. Ranma still  
had her sword, but Shampoo had no weapons. Shampoo still seemed to favour   
her left arm slightly, although her right seemed to have recovered almost   
entirely from the injury she had sustained in China. Considering the   
length of their trip, they were very poorly equipped.   
  
We'll have to stop to pick up supplies on the way, Ranma reasoned. She was  
used to travelling light with her father, so while she did have some   
reservations, she was not overly concerned.   
  
"Let's go, Shampoo."  
  
Shampoo nodded, hoisting the backpack up onto her shoulders. She gave a  
final wave farewell to Hojo, accompanied by a fond smile, and turned to   
follow Ranma toward the sunrise.  
  
* * *  
  
The grassy hills rolled endlessly toward the horizon, the azure sky   
overhead unencumbered by clouds to obscure the distant meeting of heaven   
and earth. It was a beautiful day, the sun warming the grass, the pleasant  
scent of nature hanging in the air.   
  
Ranma squinted into the sunlight as she came to the top of a small hill.   
The fields of green seemed to go on forever - at least, that is what it   
felt like to her. The pair had been travelling for six days now, covering   
a good distance each day, stopping to rest only when it was too dark to  
continue.  
  
On her training trips with her father, there would always be training stops  
to break up the monotony of day after day of marching across the   
countryside, but this was no training journey. She had a job to do, and  
she had every intention of doing it.  
  
Her determination did not, however, stop her mind from wandering. Many   
times during the depths of night, when the sounds of Shampoo's slumbering   
breath and the rustle of the night breeze upon the grass were her only   
companions, she could not stop herself from thinking, remembering.  
  
She wondered from time to time where her father was, what he was doing.   
She had never really questioned the fundamental principles of life and   
death, but she could not help but ponder her father's place in the world.  
She missed him more and more with each passing day. So many things that  
were unsaid between them, so many arguments that were unresolved, so many  
harsh words with no truth behind them.  
  
It was too late for that now. Her regrets were a burden, weighing her   
down, holding her back. She knew she would have to cast them aside, but  
she knew she could never forget them.   
  
Some nights the loneliness overwhelmed her, and so she put her arms around  
Shampoo and let herself fall asleep holding the other girl. She needed to  
feel the warmth of another person, to know that she was not entirely alone   
in the darkness.  
  
"Master, would you like some food?"  
  
She turned and glanced over her shoulder at Shampoo, who was marching   
dutifully up the hill behind her, hunched over beneath the substantial   
weight of her backpack. The pack had started out mostly empty, but they   
had been collecting food during their journey, which made the pack ever   
heavier. Ranma had tried to take the pack, even if only for a while to  
give Shampoo a brief rest, but Shampoo would hear none of it, insisting on  
bearing the load.  
  
Despite the considerable burden, Shampoo smiled at Ranma, her eyes carrying  
a pleasant look about them that was irresistibly infectious. Despite her  
weighty thoughts, Ranma found herself mirroring the smile. She had long  
since given up on convincing Shampoo to stop calling her "Master", and   
Shampoo's mood had improved exponentially because of it. Shampoo had been   
smiling more and more often, and her light mood had made the trip much more  
bearable than it had initially been.   
  
"No, but thanks," she replied, coming to a halt atop the hill. She placed  
her hands on her hips and surveyed the land before her as Shampoo came up  
alongside her. "Quite a sight, ain't it?"  
  
"Japan is very beautiful," Shampoo agreed, catching her breath. "I'm glad  
to have come here."  
  
"Beautiful indeed," Ranma replied. She reached over and patted Shampoo  
gently upon the shoulder. "You look tired. We should rest."  
  
"No, please, Master, we must continue on to Edo. I'm fine."  
  
"Edo will still be there tomorrow. Sit down, Shampoo."  
  
"As you wish, Master."  
  
Ranma sat down upon the grass and Shampoo quickly followed suit, slipping  
the pack off her shoulders and placing it on the grass beside her. She  
let out a long breath, clearly glad to be rid of the weight.  
  
"Feel better?" Ranma asked.  
  
"Yes, Master," Shampoo replied, giving Ranma a look of genuine gratitude.   
"Thank you."  
  
Ranma smiled at her companion, watching her for a moment before turning   
away. Shampoo had been so dedicated, diligent, the least Ranma could do  
was give the poor girl a rest. She chuckled to herself, suddenly wondering  
what she would have thought of the current situation a month or two   
earlier. Sitting peacefully next to the girl who killed her father. Who  
would have thought?  
  
Shampoo's eyes did not carry happiness alone. Behind the pleasant facade,  
Ranma caught glimpses of guilt, pain. She knew Shampoo would do anything   
to repay her debt.  
  
"Master, can I ask a question?"  
  
"Hmm?" Ranma inquired, eyes still watching the horizon.  
  
"Who is this Kayoko girl?"  
  
"Ahh," Ranma replied thoughtfully. She should have expected this question.  
"Kayoko Tendo. She's the daughter of a guy my father used to train with."  
  
"Oh," Shampoo said, sounding disappointed, as if she expected Kayoko's   
identity to be a matter of great intrigue. "I don't mean to question my  
Master, but why are we searching for her?"  
  
"It's all right," Ranma said with a wave of her hand. "If I were you, I'd  
be asking questions too, I guess. Pops used to train with Kayoko's father,  
but he died just before Kayoko was born. Pops helped her mother raise her  
after that. She's a couple of years younger than me - but I haven't really   
seen her in about ten years."  
  
"So now it's your job to look after her," Shampoo supposed.   
  
"I guess so," Ranma replied with a shrug. "Pops didn't really say a lot   
about what I'm supposed to do."  
  
"You don't sound very happy about it, Master," Shampoo observed, feeling  
much the same way.  
  
"I guess I never really saw myself becoming a babysitter. Still, a promise  
is a promise. If Pops thinks Kayoko needs me to look after her, he must  
have had a reason."  
  
"Perhaps she is in danger," Shampoo suggested, a hopeful tone to her voice.  
  
"Sounds to me like that's what you want."  
  
"I'm sorry, Master," Shampoo blustered, her face flushing. "I just ...   
want to prove myself in combat. I want to find out if I have what it takes  
to be an Amazon."  
  
"You're strong, dedicated, and honourable," Ranma said with a smile,   
placing a hand reassuringly on Shampoo's shoulder. "That seems a great  
start to me."  
  
* * *  
  
After nearly a three weeks travel, they had finally found a sign of   
civilisation. Or rather, what remained of one.  
  
"What do you think, Master?"  
  
Ranma narrowed her eyes, scanning back and forth through the burned huts.   
Tendrils of smoke rose up to touch the sky, carrying with them the sickly  
smell of death. The entire village appeared to have been burned to the   
ground. The ground was scorched, coated with ashes. Small fires burned   
here and there across what little fuel remained.  
  
"Nothing could survive that," Ranma commented, her voice as desolate as  
the smouldering embers in the distance.   
  
"Who would ... do such a thing?" Shampoo wondered, utterly bewildered by  
the savagery of the scene before her. "Burn down a village full of   
people?"  
  
Ranma looked on in silence. She knew she should have felt grief, sorrow,  
pain, but she could feel nothing. Somehow she was numb, utterly detached  
from the suffering that had been inflicted upon the village. She knew it  
was a hideous, terrible thing. She wanted to feel anger, outrage, to   
charge into the ruins filled with righteous vengeance, but she could not  
summon up the emotion. There was only a void, nothingness where there  
should have been substance.  
  
She looked across at Shampoo, whose face was alight with horror and   
disgust, and for a moment envied the girl, wondered why she could not feel  
the emotions that the Amazon girl so obviously felt. Instead, she felt   
only the inevitability of the destruction before her.  
  
"Master? Are you okay?" Shampoo asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ranma replied, placing her hand atop Shampoo's and   
forcing a smile. "Sorry."  
  
"We should find the ones who did this and punish them," Shampoo stated.   
"Killing children, innocent people ... it's unthinkable."  
  
"No, Shampoo," Ranma stated firmly, her face hardening, the smile   
abandoned. "We are not here to get involved in things that are none of our   
business. We're going to Edo."  
  
"But, Master--"  
  
"No buts. I have a promise to keep, and I'm going to keep it."  
  
"Yes, Master," Shampoo replied dejectedly, looking down at the ground.   
  
Ranma sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, we'll ... go and see if  
anyone survived. We just don't have time to be wandering all over Japan to  
find whoever did this."  
  
"I understand, Master," Shampoo said with a sigh. "As you wish."  
  
* * *  
  
The heavy stench of smoke filled Ranma's nostrils, forcing her to cover her  
mouth so she could breathe. Shampoo coughed heavily behind her, having   
trouble controlling her breath as well.  
  
Their surroundings were desolate, grass and wood burned back by intense  
heat, leaving only scorched remains. A light breeze played across the  
scarred earth, gently brushing ash over the remains of a violent blaze.   
Flies buzzed about in swarms, settling mainly on what Ranma imagined were   
the remains of the villagers.  
  
The sight and stink of scorched flesh filled Ranma's mind, filling her with  
a deep revulsion. Her stomach was wracked by spasms, making her fight to  
hold back from retching. She closed her eyes and tried to distance herself  
from the scenes of carnage.  
  
It was when she closed her eyes that realisation struck. With the sight of  
burned flesh and destroyed homes gone, so too was the ill feeling in her  
stomach. The smell remained, but it was bearable.  
  
The prospect of the villagers dying somehow did not trouble her. She   
imagined the land - turbulent with life and chaos - purged by the fire,   
the life sucked out of the earth, leaving only perfect peace. Quiet,   
everlasting stillness. In a perverse way, it was almost serene.  
  
The sharpness and clarity of the image took her by surprise, leaving her  
wondering just where it had come from.   
  
"This is ... terrible, awful ...."  
  
Shampoo's sobbed words shattered the calm. Ranma opened her eyes, to be  
greeted once again by the hideous shapes of burned bodies, and the utter  
revulsion that sank into her stomach like a stone.  
  
"Nothing could survive this," Ranma said quietly, narrowing her eyes.   
She could have scoured the village for a day, but she did not need to. She  
could feel the void left behind when the village was cleansed by the   
flames. Nothing but death remained.  
  
Ranma turned slowly, catching sight of Shampoo as the Amazon sank slowly to  
her knees, overcome with horror. Ranma stepped toward her and slowly   
lowered herself to one knee.  
  
"They're all dead, Shampoo," she spoke softly, quietly. "I'm sorry."  
  
Shampoo's moist eyes met Ranma's for a moment, softening with a fresh flow  
of tears as the Amazon realised the inevitability of the truth. Ranma   
stood and stepped away, leaving Shampoo to grieve alone.  
  
The sounds of Shampoo's sobs called after Ranma as she moved away, casting  
a veil of questions over her mind. Why did Shampoo grieve so, for people   
she had never known - would never know? From where did this spring of   
emotion come forth? And why did Ranma not feel the same?  
  
What's wrong with me, she wondered to herself. Why don't I feel anything?  
-Should- I feel anything?  
  
Shampoo wailed, her cries those of agony, yet Ranma felt cold, empty   
numbness. She could find no pity, no remorse. The dead villagers did not  
have to live without a father. They were not alone, they were not cursed.   
They were free. Free of their pain and their suffering, free of their  
problems and cares.  
  
Ranma's thoughts turned once more to Shampoo. The Amazon sobbed in pain  
as if her own body was cast upon the flames. She suffered, felt the pain  
that the villagers had felt.  
  
I can free her, Ranma realised, a sudden flash of revelation. I don't want  
her to feel this pain anymore. Slowly, she reached for Garyoutensei, shaky   
fingers closing around the hilt.  
  
NO!  
  
Ranma shook herself, casting off the urge to draw her sword. As obvious  
and sensible as the idea had seemed only moments before, it now seemed  
utterly repulsive. Her hand left the sword's handle and came to her   
forehead, cradling it gently.  
  
"Shampoo," she called, "we're leaving. We can't do anything here."  
  
* * *  
  
The two walked slowly, solemnly, away from the village. Shampoo no longer  
sobbed, but her face was streaked with the trails of tears. Ranma kept   
pace with her servant, brows furrowed as she half-tried to concentrate,   
half-tried to close her mind off from her thoughts.   
  
"Master ... I can't ..."  
  
Ranma stopped as she noticed Shampoo had fallen behind. She turned, and  
saw Shampoo's pleading eyes, once more full of tears, staring at her.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master," Shampoo whimpered, leaning up against a tree.  
  
"It's okay, Shampoo," Ranma said reassuringly, moving toward Shampoo. "I  
understand."  
  
It was a lie, but Ranma hoped it would make Shampoo feel better. Ranma   
didn't understand. That was exactly the problem.  
  
"How could someone burn a -village- full of -people-?" Shampoo desperately  
questioned, utterly unable to comprehend. "How? Why?"  
  
Ranma opened her mouth to speak, to offer some words of comfort, but could  
find none to say. Her thoughts rang hollow, with no real meaning. She did  
not know why someone would burn a village to the ground, slaughter the   
innocent people who lived there. What possible gain could there be?  
  
"I ... don't know," she reluctantly admitted. "Somebody had a reason, but  
I don't know what it was."  
  
Shampoo slumped against the tree and closed her eyes as she dropped to her   
knees, her face carrying a defeated expression. "Japan does not seem so   
beautiful any more, Master."  
  
"Maybe you're right," Ranma said, unsure of what else to say. Ranma could   
tell that, despite all her talk of being a warrior, Shampoo was ill-at-ease  
with the very idea of murdering another person. Ranma guessed that before  
her father had made his appearance at the Amazon village, Shampoo had never   
seen another person killed, let alone killed anyone herself.  
  
Ranma had never seen a person killed before her father's rampage either.   
It troubled her that despite being in such similar situations, their   
reactions could be so very different. She wondered for a moment whose   
reaction was the right one.  
  
This isn't the time for that, she thought with a sigh.   
  
"It's hard, I know," she spoke slowly, considering her words. "Nothing I   
can say to you is going to make what you saw back there any less awful. I  
know you just want to crawl under a rock and forget about it, because it  
hurts, even to think about it."  
  
Why aren't I hurting, Ranma asked herself. Am I just lying to her?  
  
"I've felt like that a lot in my life. When Pops died, when I got this   
curse, when I think about the awful things I've seen. Sometimes I stop and   
wonder why the world is so full of evil, so dark, so miserable.  
  
"But sometimes," she continued, "I see something so beautiful that I   
remember it's worthwhile to hold on, to fight back. I know I can't give   
up, because if I do, I'll be letting it beat me, and I can't stand to   
lose."  
  
"You make it sound so simple, Master," Shampoo replied with a bitter smile  
on her face.  
  
Ranma reached down and gently brushed the hair from Shampoo's face, smiling  
reassuringly at her as she knelt alongside her. Finally, amongst the   
emptiness inside her, Ranma felt the stirring of an emotion - sympathy, for  
her companion.  
  
"I know it's not simple," Ranma said with a sigh. She reached down and  
gently took Shampoo's hand into hers, lifting it from the grass. "Nothing  
in life is simple. I know that what we saw was awful, and terrible, and  
it hurts to even think that someone could do something like that. You just  
can't stop trying to be a good person because of it."  
  
"I ... I'll try not to, Master," Shampoo replied, squeezing Ranma's hand.  
  
"I know you will, Shampoo. I know you're a good person, and I'm sorry for  
dragging you into this. I never should have brought you to Japan."  
  
"I'm not sorry," Shampoo said quietly. "I wish we'd met another way, but  
I'm glad that I met you. Thank you, for trying to make me feel better."  
  
Ranma smiled to Shampoo and stood up. She reached down, offering her hand  
to Shampoo, who took it and pulled herself to her feet.  
  
"In some ways it's a shame you want to be a warrior, Shampoo. You're a   
nice person, you shouldn't have to be thinking about killing anyone."  
  
Ranma's smile slowly faded as Shampoo stared at her; Ranma wondered if   
she'd offended the Amazon with what was meant to be an off-handed joke.   
She was about to ask Shampoo what was wrong when she noticed that the   
girl's stare was not directed at her, but rather over her shoulder.  
  
She could feel it. They were not alone. She wondered for the briefest of  
moments why she had not noticed before; it was too late to ask herself that  
now. Slowly, she turned to face the man who was standing behind her, his  
sword already drawn.  
  
"Well, now, look what I've found here," he said, a smirk on his face.  
  
* * *  
  
"Who are you?" Ranma asked, all traces of friendliness banished from her  
voice. She did not appreciate being surprised by a man with a sword.   
Shampoo rose cautiously to her feet and stepped into place behind Ranma.  
  
The man sneered disdainfully at them, eyes looking both of the girls up and  
down. The man seemed to like what he saw, licking his lips in approval,   
which made the hairs on the back of Ranma's neck stand up.  
  
Small in stature, the man nevertheless carried an aggressive look about   
him, his reddish skin and wild eyes giving him a dangerous appearance. A  
number of small scars ran across his face, and his smile - a motley display  
of yellowed teeth - was vicious and predatory.  
  
He was adorned in a tattered yellow uniform, and his sword was finely   
sharpened. The blade was unclean, smeared with a red tinge that suggested  
recent use. It pointed directly at Ranma, firm and unwavering; it was not  
the weapon of a petty thief or bandit.  
  
This guy's no amateur, Ranma realised. This is a soldier.  
  
"Who I am's none 'a your business," the man replied gruffly. "If I was   
you, I'd be more worried 'bout saving your own lives than the name 'a the  
person about to take 'em."  
  
"You'd attack two women travelling by themselves? What kind of man are   
you?" Ranma asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. The gesture was more   
for show than an expression of genuine disbelief - she had a good idea what  
sort of man she was facing.  
  
"You're damn right I will, as soon as ya explain how the hell you escaped  
the fire. We didn't see anyone leaving the village."  
  
"YOU burned the village?" Ranma spat in disbelief. How could this man so  
glibly admit to such an act? She had thought him a dishonourable rogue   
before; now, he had sunk below that definition, into a category that was   
less than human.  
  
Shampoo bristled behind her, and Ranma held out a hand to stop the Amazon   
as she stepped forward. Ranma could not see Shampoo's face, but she could  
almost feel the anger radiating from her companion.  
  
"Burned it to a crisp," the man replied, his voice filled with what seemed  
to be pride. Ranma suppressed a shudder at the man's repulsive demeanour.  
She had pondered at length her own lack of emotion about the villagers, but  
this man seemed to find their fate amusing, enjoyable. She could not   
understand such a thing.  
  
"Why?!" Shampoo demanded, storming forward only to be restrained by Ranma.  
  
"None 'a your business. We got what we came for, and now," the man   
punctuated his words with small flicks of his sword, "I finish tyin' up  
the loose ends."  
  
Ranma heard a feral-sounding growl come from behind her; she frowned,   
knowing exactly what Shampoo was thinking. Let me punish him, Master. Let  
me show him what happens to monsters who kill innocent people.  
  
You don't need to worry, Ranma thought. You'll get your chance, Shampoo.  
  
"Well, then," Ranma announced, voice brimming with confidence as she folded  
her arms in front of herself, "start tying."  
  
"Well, uh," the soldier stammered, taken slightly aback by Ranma's sudden  
change of demeanour. After a moment's thought, he commanded, "Get down on  
your knees."  
  
"No," Ranma replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and  
back, her eyes not leaving his. "I won't."  
  
"Do it!" the soldier barked, his cheeks flushing red with infuriation.  
  
"Or what? You'll tell me again?" Ranma asked offhandedly, a smile coming  
to her face. Good, she thought, he has a short fuse.   
  
"Stupid man no tell us what to do," Shampoo lilted in a sing-song tone.  
Ranma smiled, glad that Shampoo understood where she wanted this   
conversation to lead.   
  
"I don't think he's got the guts," Ranma remarked offhandedly, glancing   
over her shoulder to surreptitiously wink at Shampoo. "He's all talk."  
  
"Shut up!" the soldier fumed, incensed. "Get down on your hands and knees  
or you'll regret you were ever born!"  
  
"I don't know about that," Ranma said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes,  
"but I sure do regret starting this conversation. Can we go now?"  
  
"Shampoo bored," Shampoo chimed in, "you leave us alone now, okay?"  
  
"That's IT!" the soldier roared, lunging forward in absolute rage. His  
strike was wild, uncontrolled; exactly what Ranma had been hoping for.  
  
As well-trained as the soldier might have been, he was not prepared for   
Ranma's lightning-fast dodge to one side, nor was he prepared for the   
impact of Ranma's fist on his sword-hand. The explosive pain of his wrist  
snapping took him completely by surprise, sending his sword tumbling out of  
his grasp. These surprises were nothing, however, compared to the sight of  
Shampoo's bare foot closing in on his face.  
  
A dull thud filled the air. Shampoo held her position, foot held at face  
height, as the soldier slumped down to the ground below. She glanced   
upwards and noticed the man's sword spinning through the air - with a deft  
flick of her arm, she reached out and caught the handle. Slowly, she  
lowered her foot and smiled at Ranma.  
  
"Nice kick," Ranma commented, matching Shampoo's smile.  
  
"Thank you, Master," she replied with a bow.  
  
"You'd think a soldier would know better than to get annoyed so easily,"   
Ranma commented as she looked down at the man, shaking her head. "Still,  
it worked out okay for us."  
  
"What do we do with him now, Master?" Shampoo asked, gently waving the   
man's sword back and forth, adjusting her grip upon it as she tried to get  
a feel for its weight and length.  
  
"We find out where the other soldiers are, I suppose," Ranma said,   
scratching the back of her head. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."  
  
"Japanese swords are very nice," Shampoo commented, admiring the sharp edge  
of her newly-acquired blade. "May I try it out on him, Master?"  
  
"You're not going to kill him, Shampoo," Ranma stated firmly. "If we kill  
him, we're no better than he is. No, I think we should find out where the  
other soldiers are, and find out why the hell they're burning down  
villages."  
  
"Master, didn't you say we didn't have time to do that?"  
  
"Yeah, well, now this guy's pissed me off. Besides, I only said we didn't  
have time to go wandering Japan looking for them - I think we have enough  
time to find this guy's friends and deal out some pain. Now, find   
something to tie this guy up with."  
  
"As you wish, Master," Shampoo replied as solemnly as she could, unable to   
hide the smile that had taken her face.  
  
* * *  
  
"Wake up, rise and shine," Ranma said, kneeling in front of the soldier.   
Shampoo had found some very sturdy vines that had served the purpose of  
restraints exceedingly well. The tree they had tied him to was strong and  
sturdy - the man was not going anywhere in a hurry.  
  
"Uhhhhh ..." the man groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking as they  
slowly regained focus. They immediately opened wide as they were greeted  
to the sight of Ranma's abundant cleavage. "I've died and this is my   
reward ...."  
  
Ranma blinked, a confused expression on her face. She glanced down and saw  
where the soldier was staring, and let out an exasperated sigh. Reaching  
out with a fingertip, she tilted the man's chin up until he was looking at   
her face. "Not quite, Soldier-Boy. You're not dead yet."  
  
"Oh, no," the soldier muttered in disgust as the reality of his situation  
set in. He struggled briefly, long enough to realise that he was secured  
tightly to the tree. He winced, as his broken wrist complained at his   
movements.  
  
"Although, you might wish you were if you don't start talking," Ranma   
added, nodding her head toward Shampoo for emphasis. The soldier glanced   
in the Amazon's direction, and gulped nervously as she practiced her swings  
with his sword. "She's not used to Japanese weapons, but she's learning  
very quickly, don't you think?"  
  
"Oh ... no," the soldier mouthed, utterly perplexed as to how the situation  
had been turned around so quickly.  
  
"Not so tough anymore, are you?" Ranma asked, with a smile that resembled  
that of a cat just about to pounce upon its prey. "One look at the sword  
that's probably going to end up in your chest and you turn to jelly. It's  
pathetic."  
  
"What do you want?" the soldier asked, his voice weak, a mere shadow of the  
booming presence it once was.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Totoshi," the soldier spat, a spark of futile anger in his voice. He   
winced again, "You didn't have to break my arm, you know."  
  
"It's only a broken wrist, so stop complaining," Ranma replied, a dangerous  
edge cutting through the sugar-sweet tone she had been using. "You were  
trying to kill us - you're lucky I didn't snap your neck.  
  
"In fact," Ranma said with a smile as she closed her hand around Totoshi's  
neck, "I still might do that. Now, I'm guessing you didn't burn that   
village on your own. Where are the others?"  
  
"What others?"  
  
"Don't play innocent," Ranma uttered menacingly, tightening her grip upon  
Totoshi's neck. "You know what I'm talking about."  
  
Ranma's smile twisted as she tightened her grip, watching the veins on   
Totoshi's neck bulge as his skin turned a bright shade of red. She watched  
him choke for breath, struggle to hold on to consciousness.  
  
"I don't ... know!" Totoshi coughed, struggling for precious air. He   
thrashed against the tree, trying to escape, the pain in his wrist   
forgotten. Through it all, Ranma smiled.  
  
Shampoo ceased her sword swings and watched Ranma's interrogation with a   
mixture of curiosity and fear. She could see Totoshi's eyes rolling back  
in his head, his movements weakening as he continued to lose the struggle.  
  
"Master?" she asked, "Aren't you going a bit far?"  
  
Ranma growled into Totoshi's face as she loosened her grip and pulled her  
hand from his neck, her fingers shaking. Slowly, as if with great   
reluctance, she brought her hand to the ground.  
  
"Tell me what you know," she rumbled dangerously. "Is it worth your life to  
protect them?"  
  
"I'll talk, I'll talk," Totoshi whimpered, forcing deep breaths of air into  
his lungs. He leaned back against the tree, clearly dizzied. "They're   
just ... north of here, in a clearing ... just beyond the rise."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Just ... three."  
  
Ranma brought her face close to Totoshi's and smiled at him, a predatory   
gleam in her eye. "Good boy," she breathed, staring at him for a moment   
before rising to her feet. "Shampoo, we're heading north."  
  
"Yes, Master," Shampoo replied obediently. She gestured toward their   
captive. "What shall I do with him?"  
  
"Leave him here," Ranma ordered, her eyes on Totoshi's as she spoke.   
"Someone - or thing - is going to find him sooner or later. If he's   
lucky, it won't be something that wants to eat him."  
  
Totoshi tried to protest, but was hushed by Ranma.  
  
"In the meantime, Soldier-Boy here can think about what he's done."  
  
* * *  
  
"Well, at least Totoshi was telling the truth."  
  
Ranma squinted as she lay alongside Shampoo amidst a thicket of bushes.   
The pair watched over a tiny encampment: two tents and a small fire marked  
the centre of a small clearing amidst the surrounding trees. Three   
soldiers, dressed identically to Totoshi, sat around the fire. Ranma could  
hear conversation and laughter, but was unable to resolve the muttering   
into words.  
  
"It's no good," she said, "we're too far away. We're going to have to get  
closer."  
  
"Master, look," Shampoo said, pointing through a small gap in the bushes.  
  
Ranma leaned over as Shampoo moved aside to make room, and peered through  
the gap. A girl sat nearby, tied firmly to a pole that had been driven   
deep into the ground. She slumped limply forward; Ranma guessed she was  
either asleep or unconscious.   
  
Ranma squinted, peering more closely at the girl. A dark patch covered her  
face, but Ranma was unable to tell if it was a bruise or a shadow. Given  
the company the girl kept, Ranma suspected the former. The more closely   
she looked, the more she could not shake off the feeling of familiarity she  
felt about the girl.  
  
"What do you think, Master?" Shampoo asked as Ranma stared at the girl, the  
Amazon's warm breath on Ranma's ear quickly snapping her out of her silent  
observation.  
  
"She's in a pretty bad situation," Ranma observed, pulling herself away   
from the gap to return to her previous position, "but she's better off than  
the rest of the village."  
  
"We should help her," Shampoo whispered.  
  
"Yeah, we should," Ranma agreed with a nod. "Come on."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma crept silently behind one of the tents, peering past the simple cloth  
structure at the two nearest soldiers. She turned toward Shampoo and made   
a quick hand motion, pointing to Shampoo, then the man on the right.   
Shampoo nodded, quietly stepping up behind Ranma.   
  
Ranma darted across between the two tents, which brought her up behind the  
leftmost guard, and held her hand up to still Shampoo. Watching carefully,  
she held her breath, waiting for the right moment.  
  
The two soldiers laughed uproariously, and Ranma stood on tiptoes to glance  
over their heads and find out what was amusing them so. The third guard  
wobbled back and forth on the far side of the camp fire, a bottle of sake  
clutched in one hand as he swayed to and fro. He brought the bottle to his  
lips and took a deep swig, throwing his head back to swallow the fluid.  
  
His drunken body was unable to cope with the sudden change in orientation  
and abandoned its balance, leaving the man to fall on his posterior. The  
bottle tumbled from his grasp and rolled through the grass. All three  
soldiers apparently found this quite amusing, as the air was filled with  
raucous laughter.  
  
Ranma gave a silent nod and leapt for the nearest soldier.   
  
Neither stood a chance. Ranma wrapped her arm around one soldier's neck,  
grabbing it brutally as she drove a fist into the side of his head, his   
arms flailing as she tossed him aside. He landed roughly, sprawling on the  
ground in front of his tent.  
  
Glancing over, Ranma saw Shampoo had duplicated her success on the other  
soldier, who now lay unconscious at the Amazon's feet. Shampoo dusted off  
her hands, a gesture which appeared almost comical and brought a smile to   
Ranma's face. Strange, she thought, what you find funny sometimes.  
  
The third soldier looked up at the two newcomers, his alcohol-addled mind   
barely comprehending what had happened. He tried to stand as Ranma strode  
over toward him, but did not make it very far before she planted a foot in  
his chest and pinned him to the ground.   
  
Ranma drew her fist back, a grimace on her face as the powerful smell of   
the soldier's breath filled her nose. She brought her fist down, a   
powerful blow to the soldier's face leaving him unconscious.  
  
"That was easy," Shampoo observed, scratching her head. "It doesn't feel  
as good as I thought it would."  
  
"What, revenge?" Ranma asked, stepping away from the soldier. "No, I guess  
it doesn't. You're right, though - soldiers should have put up more of a  
fight. There's something weird going on here."  
  
"What do you mean, Master?"  
  
"I don't know," Ranma admitted, a thoughtful frown on her face. She turned   
and looked at the unconscious bodies sprawled by the tents. "I was   
expecting more of a challenge, I guess."  
  
Ranma shivered as a sudden tingle ran down her spine, goosebumps prickling  
her skin as she glanced around at the trees circling the clearing.   
Something told her there was something else out there, but she could see  
nothing but trees. Nevertheless, she was filled with a strong desire to  
leave as quickly as she could.  
  
"Get the girl, and let's get out of here."  
  
"Yes, Master," Shampoo dutifully replied, quickly moving over toward the  
captive girl.   
  
Ranma glanced about nervously before stepping over to help. There was   
definitely something wrong, but she could not understand what it was.  
  
It was the work of seconds for Shampoo to untie the knots holding the girl   
to the pole. The girl was indeed unconscious, her body slumping forward  
against Ranma as Shampoo released the restraints. Ranma caught the girl,  
arms closing around the cold body.  
  
Suddenly, she felt it. Danger. There was something coming to get her, and  
it was close. Instinctively, her hand dropped to Garyoutensei's handle.  
  
"Master, duck!"  
  
Shampoo's words caught Ranma's attention and, releasing the sword, she   
threw herself and the girl in her arms to the ground. Shampoo charged past  
them, Ranma catching a glimpse of a sword swinging for a brief moment. A  
deep thud was followed by a cry of pain, and then silence.   
  
Leaves rustled overhead, the sound of the wind filling the void for a   
moment, before another, heavier thump punched through the air, leaving   
silence once more in its wake.  
  
Slowly, Ranma raised her head, and looked over her shoulder at the source   
of the sounds. Eyes widening, she slowly got to her feet, leaving the   
unconscious girl forgotten on the grass.  
  
One of the soldiers lay before Shampoo, her sword sticking out of him at a  
bizarre angle, the handle beneath his armpit, the tip protruding from his  
neck. A large gash ran across his chest, where Shampoo's blade had hacked  
through his ribs. Blood streamed from the wound at an alarming rate,   
quickly forming a large puddle around the dead man.   
  
Shampoo stood over the body, her eyes wide as she looked down at it. She  
slowly raised a shaky hand and stared at it in wonder.  
  
"I ... I killed him ...." she muttered, disbelieving. "I ...."  
  
"Shampoo?" Ranma asked, managing to tear her eyes away from the horrific  
gash and look instead at her servant.   
  
"Master, I ... he was charging at you, he .. he had a sword ... I ..."  
  
Shampoo dived down on the man, frantically grabbing at his chest, yanking  
at the sword that had killed him, trying to pull it out, to undo what she  
had done. She pulled and pulled, but the sword was stuck fast.  
  
"Shampoo!" Ranma yelled, grabbing the Amazon and pulling her away from the  
body, "It's too late, you can't do anything now. He's dead."  
  
Shampoo looked up at Ranma with wild eyes. Slowly she brought her   
blood-soaked hands to her mouth, her face twisting in revulsion as   
realisation began to sink in.  
  
"We have to go, Shampoo!" Ranma commanded, trying to keep Shampoo's mind  
occupied, wanting to lead her away from the sight of the dead man. "Come  
on!"  
  
Shampoo nodded dumbly, her eyes fixed upon her hands as they dripped with  
the blood of her victim, the blood she had so easily spilled.   
  
The horrible, metallic smell of burning blood filling her nostrils, Ranma  
pulled Shampoo sharply to her feet. Yanking the Amazon along behind her,  
Ranma grabbed the other girl and tossed her over one shoulder. Without  
sparing a glance back, Ranma pulled both girls into the forest, away from  
the clearing.  
  
* * *  
  
The water was cold, the stream's flow strong. Ranma gathered some of the  
liquid in one hand and splashed it sharply across the face of her   
unconscious companion, eliciting a moan from the girl.  
  
Shampoo knelt slightly downstream, holding her hands underwater,   
frantically scrubbing at the skin. She had managed to wash most of the  
bloodstains from her skin, but continued to scrub just as furiously as the  
moment she began.   
  
Ranma sighed as she watched the Amazon, unsure of what to say, what to do.  
The girl had finally begun to come to terms with what had happened with  
Genma, and now this had happened. It was obvious that Shampoo simply could  
not cope with the consequences of killing another person.  
  
Shampoo had now killed twice. Guilt clawed at Ranma's mind as she admitted  
to herself that she had been responsible for both of those deaths. The  
burden Shampoo carried was one Ranma had placed upon her. The first, in  
defense of her tribe, the second in defense of her adopted master.  
  
The inevitable question came to her: would I have done the same? Would I  
have killed him? Months, weeks, even days ago, the question would have   
been answered with an emphatic no. But, as time marched on, she found   
herself questioning the things her father had taught her.  
  
Her father had lectured her about the quiet grace of the Art, the peace and  
solitude it brought with it, the goal of physical and mental perfection  
being the ultimate end towards which all martial artists strived.  
  
Killing had never entered into the equation, but as Ranma continued to   
experience the world without her father, she felt more and more that   
killing was a necessary tool of survival. Indeed, as she had glanced down  
at the blood-soaked body of the soldier, she saw nothing but a problem that  
had been solved.   
  
How the hell can I say that, she wondered, suddenly disgusted with herself.  
She had never killed anyone, and never would. The spilling of blood was to  
be left to others, the warriors, not the artists. Warriors like Shampoo.  
  
Shampoo would have been better off never knowing me, Ranma thought glumly   
as she continued scooping water with her hands. We've brought each other  
nothing but misery.  
  
Was that really true, though, Ranma wondered. Shampoo seemed to thrive   
with the responsibility of serving a master, seemed to be growing proud of  
her achievements. For her part, Ranma had developed something of an   
attachment to her servant, a bond of sorts brought about through hardships  
the two had suffered.  
  
No, it's not only misery.  
  
Shampoo would talk later, Ranma knew. For now, she needed to be alone, to  
atone and wash her mind clean, just as she washed her hands. The time   
would come for them to talk, but that time was not now. So, Ranma busied   
herself with the newcomer.  
  
The girl was small, her dark brown hair tied in a simple ponytail that left  
her face exposed. The dark patch was, as Ranma had suspected, a large   
bruise. The girl had a pretty face, her features endowed with a simple,   
earthy beauty that Ranma found familiar. Try as she might, she could not  
shake the feeling that she knew this girl from somewhere.  
  
"Uhhh ..." the girl groaned, rolling her head back and forth as the light  
of consciousness slowly began to return to her.  
  
Ranma withdrew her hand from the stream, shook it dry, and brought it to   
the girl's forehead, pressing her cool skin gently against it.  
  
"Easy there," she spoke softly, "looks like you took quite a hit."  
  
"Where ... where am I?" the girl asked, forcing her eyes open a fraction.  
She winced, in obvious pain. Her dilated pupils rolled slowly toward  
Ranma, stopping in place as they tried to focus upon her. "Who are you?"  
  
"My name's Ranma," Ranma replied, "and I'm not sure where we are. You're  
safe for now, though, so don't worry."  
  
The girl tensed, casting her eyes back and forth. "Where are ..."  
  
"The soldiers?" Ranma replied quietly, mindful of Shampoo. "They won't be  
bothering you anymore. What happened back there?"  
  
"I ... I came from the Ryukyus," the girl explained, her voice weak. "I  
had been travelling for days, and I came across a village. They let me   
stay for a night, and then ... then ...."  
  
"Oh," Ranma replied thoughtfully. So, the girl wasn't a native of the   
village. "Do you know why the soldiers were after you?"  
  
"I ... I don't know," the girl replied. "All I remember is some yelling,  
and then someone hit me on the back of the head. I can't ...."  
  
"The Ryukyu islands are a long way away," Ranma said, trying to steer the  
conversation away from the destruction of the village. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I'm looking for a man, I have some business with him," the girl replied,   
her voice growing stronger. She slowly sat up, propping herself up on her  
elbows.   
  
"Business?" Ranma asked, leaning back a little. She was quite surprised at  
the girl's recovery, not expecting her to be sitting up so soon.  
  
"I'd ... rather not say," the girl replied. "You said your name was   
Ranma?"  
  
"Yeah, that's me," Ranma said with a nod. She gestured towards Shampoo,   
"and that's my servant, Shampoo."  
  
"Shampoo? That's an odd name," the girl commented, looking quizzically at  
the Amazon.  
  
"Yeah, she's not from around here. She ... needs some privacy at the   
moment, okay?"  
  
"Okay," the girl replied with a nod. "I'll leave her alone. I should   
go back to the village, make sure everything is okay. Thanks for your   
help, but I should be okay on my own from here."  
  
"Uh, we should push on, those soldiers won't be tied up for long, and  
they're probably going to come looking for you. We're going to Edo, you   
can come along if you like," Ranma offered, scratching the back of her   
head.   
  
"I guess you're right. Staying here is only going to put the village in  
more danger, I suppose. You don't mind if I come with you?"  
  
"Not at all," Ranma said, which was something of a lie. She had wanted   
some time alone with Shampoo to straighten things out, but she could hardly  
leave this girl alone in the forest. "Where are you heading?"  
  
"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm heading to Edo too."  
  
"Well, okay, then. Looks like you're coming with us."  
  
"That sounds good," the girl said, her smile growing. "Thank you for   
helping me, Ranma. I appreciate it."  
  
"You're welcome, uh ... I never asked your name," Ranma said with an   
awkward laugh.  
  
"Ukyo," the girl said, sitting up fully. "My name's Ukyo Kuonji."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	7. Into the Wonderful

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
"Into the Wonderful"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Akane stepped carefully over the gravel, treading lightly on bruised feet  
that constantly reminded her of the damage they had sustained during her  
journey. Each step was a test to be passed, and despite her attempts to  
banish the pain from her thoughts, she found herself wincing with every  
touch of the stones underfoot.  
  
Ranma, for her part, seemed not to share the Tendo girl's difficulty; the  
silence behind Akane was deafening, Ranma's effortless gliding feeling no  
less intimidating now than the first time Akane had witnessed it. The cold  
dampness that clawed at her back only added to her discomfort; combined  
with the frigid touch of Shoryoutensei against her leg, she was left  
wondering just why she had decided to leave the comforts of home in the  
first place.  
  
She glanced back over her shoulder at Ranma, and flashed a brief smile when  
the redhead matched her gaze with an inquisitive look. She looked away  
quickly, the lingering suspicion that Ranma was about to plunge a knife  
into her back no less intense. She had been continuously looking back, and  
judging by the increasingly curious expressions upon Ranma's face, the  
other girl had begun to wonder why.  
  
"Don't worry," came Ranma's voice, "we're not being followed."  
  
"Oh, good," Akane replied, relief in her voice. At least her true  
intentions had not been discovered.  
  
They had been walking for two days since the incident at the cave, and  
barely two dozen words had passed between them in that time. It was not  
for a lack of trying - Akane had quite often tried to start a conversation,  
but Ranma had the unnerving habit of staring off into the distance,  
seemingly deep in thought. When asked, the redhead would always say that  
she was "just thinking about the past".  
  
What that meant, Akane was not sure. She imagined someone over eight  
hundred years old would have a lot of things to reminisce about, but that  
did little to ease her mind. There was something unnerving about the way  
her companion stared off into nothing that she could not quite put her  
finger on.  
  
An endless stream of questions paraded through her mind. Who was that  
hunter, back in the cave? A clone? Who made the clone? Had Ranma really  
been alive for eight hundred years? How was that even possible?  
  
Akane's thoughts had travelled far as well, although the path her mind  
walked was little more than a small circle. She swayed back and forth  
between wondering if Ranma was telling the truth about herself, trying to  
shake off the image of the Hidari clone's face, and wondering if she would  
ever find a phone to call her father.  
  
She sighed, turning her mind back to the present, back to the aching in her  
feet. The forest stretched endlessly on, a green sea that blended with the  
distant horizon. Her initial sense of wonder had long since given away to  
a dreary ennui, leaving her longing for some sort of change in the  
landscape, be it a lake, or mountain, or - her greatest hope - some sign of  
civilisation.  
  
She wondered, as she stepped around a tree, if she was heading in the right  
direction. She had no idea where she was supposed to be going, other than  
"west". Ranma had not objected to the path she was taking, though, so she  
could only assume she was on the correct course. Given Ranma's tendency to  
drift off into reminiscence, however, Akane did not feel at all relaxed  
about their trip.  
  
A small bird fluttered overhead, the sweet melody of its song bringing a  
smile to her face. Despite it all, she still enjoyed the company of the  
forest and its wildlife. She knew she would miss it once she had passed  
through it completely. In many ways, it was a more soothing companion than  
Ranma.  
  
"Where are we going, Ranma?"  
  
Silence was Ranma's only response. She sighed, pondering for a moment  
repeating her question, then decided against it. There was no point in  
talking to someone who was not listening.  
  
The sun burned pale in the evening sky, casting down a faint glow that  
tinged the sky red. Akane looked up for a moment, watching the pink clouds  
drift aimlessly above the horizon, and wondered exactly what time it was.  
  
"I had hoped we would have had days, weeks - not hours."  
  
"What?" Akane asked, startled by Ranma's voice. She turned to look at the  
stern-faced girl that followed behind her.  
  
"I wanted to spend weeks in the cave," Ranma said, scowling, "but those  
bastards tracked us down faster than I was expecting. They're getting  
clever."  
  
Akane swallowed, the venom in Ranma's voice leaving her ill-at-ease. She  
watched Ranma's eyes flit back and forth and wondered exactly what the  
redheaded girl was thinking.  
  
"We'll have to adapt if you're going to survive," Ranma continued, more a  
statement of fact than an observation. "They have our scent now, they will  
be following us. Damn it all, it wasn't supposed to happen this way."  
  
Akane watched Ranma's eyes flit back and forth, a hard edge to them as the  
small girl seemed to consider her options.  
  
"We were lucky there was only one of the clones," Ranma said. "We'll need  
to accelerate your training if--"  
  
"He ... he smiled at me," Akane interrupted as Ranma mentioned the clone,  
the preponderance of the Hidari's face in her mind compelling her to recall  
him. She looked intently at Ranma's face, seeing the black-haired boy  
reflected there. "He told me he wanted to help me."  
  
Ranma's muttering immediately ceased, the redhead fixing Akane with a firm  
gaze, bright blue eyes demanding attention.  
  
"He did what?"  
  
"He smiled," Akane repeated, suddenly feeling as if she had said something  
wrong.  
  
"Akane, listen to me. Listen very carefully," Ranma said, clasping Akane's  
shoulders firmly. "First of all, that wasn't a 'he', that was an 'it'.  
The Hidari clones don't want to help you. They don't feel sympathy for  
you, or concern for you, or anything else. They aren't even -capable- of  
feeling. They just do what they've been told to do, and they've been told  
to kill you."  
  
"But, I--"  
  
"Akane!" Ranma snapped, shaking Akane's shoulders. "You have to believe  
me. It was trying to trick you. You can be sure that it did not have your  
welfare in mind."  
  
"And you do?" Akane asked defiantly, shaking her shoulders free of Ranma's  
icy grip. She did not appreciate being pushed around by anyone.  
  
"What do I have to do to convince you?" Ranma growled, eyes flaring with  
anger. "I saved you from that ... that ... monster, and all I get in  
return is distrust and suspicion?"  
  
Akane backed away, eyes widening at the heated outburst. Ranma sighed,  
visibly deflated.  
  
"I'm ... sorry, Akane," Ranma said, her hard tone and angry manner melting  
away into regretful quiescence. "Your safety is all I care about."  
  
She reached up and gently cupped Akane's cheek, stroking her calloused  
thumb over soft skin, and matched Akane's eyes with her own. "I ... I know  
you still don't trust me. I know you still don't believe me. All I can do  
is promise that no matter what happens, I will protect you."  
  
Akane tensed at the contact, the disconcerting difference in Ranma's mood  
sending shivers through her skin. She flashed a small, diaphanous smile,  
pocketing her doubts and fears for later consideration. Nodding her  
acquiescence, she hoped against hope Ranma would not question her belief -  
belief that would not stand up to close scrutiny.  
  
She needed time to think, to consider Ranma's promises and accusations, to  
try and place her thoughts into perspective. The safest approach was to  
play along, equivocate, and hope that things would grow clearer with time.  
  
"Thank you, Ranma," she offered, hesitantly. "I ... appreciate that."  
  
Ranma smiled, that same charming smile she had shown when Akane had first  
agreed to accompany her on the journey. Somehow, Akane became acutely  
aware of Ranma's victory and her own defeat. Once more, she was following  
the Saotome girl into the unknown.  
  
"To survive you must be strong," Ranma said, squeezing Akane's shoulder  
once again - reassuringly, this time. "You have great strength inside you,  
but you must awaken it if you're going to stand a chance against the  
hunters. I'll guard you to the best of my abilities, but that may not be  
enough."  
  
"More training?" Akane guessed, a wavering ambivalence tainting her words.  
On one hand, she wanted to be strong, to repay the debt of her mother's  
death. On the other hand, Ranma's lessons and style of teaching were  
chillingly intimidating.  
  
"More training," Ranma confirmed with a nod. "We need to speed things up a  
little. I'm going to take you to see a man I know. He'll be able to help  
you."  
  
"A man?" Akane asked, her curiosity piqued. Training under somebody else?  
It would certainly be a distraction from her current worries.  
  
"Indeed," Ranma said, looking thoughtful. "He's an old student of mine.  
In many ways, I suppose, he's a teacher of mine as well."  
  
* * *  
  
The small log cabin blended in with the wooded hillside, the small trail of  
smoke that rose from its chimney the one sign that spoiled the camouflage.  
It protruded squarely from the rolling hills, and yet at the same time did  
not seem at all out of place. It had a worn, lived-in look, the small  
patches of dried moss that covered the wooden walls giving the impression  
that the cabin had been built long ago.  
  
"That's it?" Akane asked, peering curiously at the cabin and the small,  
clear stream that ran alongside it. On one hand, she was vaguely  
disappointed, having expected something more ... grand, or mysterious. On  
the other hand, the small wooden house was strangely captivating in its  
quaint charm.  
  
"That's it," Ranma replied, nodding her head. She squinted her eyes, using  
one hand to shield them from the sunlight. "It looks like he's home.  
Good."  
  
"He who?" Akane asked, peering at Ranma for a moment.  
  
"His name is Happosai, and he's your new instructor."  
  
* * *  
  
The door creaked loudly as it opened, worn hinges complaining as their  
slumber was interrupted by two intruders. The heavy door swung slowly,  
coming to a stop only as it thumped against the wall.  
  
Akane peered over Ranma's slender shoulder, trying to take in the details  
of the cabin's interior. A musty smell filled her nose, the collected dust  
of many years escaping through the gaping doorway. It was a sparsely lit  
hallway, the dimly flickering light of a fire the only illumination. The  
cabin sported several windows but all were shaded, leaving the cabin  
immured in shadow. The house itself seemed faded, worn with age, seeming  
more like an ancient tomb than a home.  
  
A rectangular patch of sunlight, slanted and stretched, intruded upon the  
darkness, bringing with it the elongated shadows of the two visitors at the  
door. One shadow turned to the other and spoke.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"We go in, of course."  
  
A gust of wind blustered through the open door, disturbing the eerie  
stillness and stirring up dust that swirled down the hallway, gathering in  
a small pile at the base of the far wall. Ranma stepped in through the  
doorway and Akane, feeling very much as though she were desecrating sacred  
ground, followed in turn.  
  
The wooden floor leeched what little warmth remained in Akane's feet after  
several days on the road, sending the echoes of shivers whispering up her  
calves. She had recently begun to adjust to the endless winter that seemed  
to sheathe Ranma in its chill, and yet the floor felt cold even to her.  
  
Ranma strode silently down the hall, her cloak billowing over the floor,  
covering it from one side of the hall to the other. Still, there was no  
sound from her movements, and Akane noted with interest the fact that  
Ranma's passage, unlike her own, did not disturb the remnants of dust left  
upon the wooden floor.  
  
"Close the door behind you."  
  
Akane glanced up from the floor as Ranma spoke and gave a slight nod as  
she turned and closed the door. The shaft of sunlight that streaked the  
floor grew thinner as the door hinges once again protested, slimming to a  
sliver before disappearing entirely. The door closed with a heavy clunk,  
leaving Akane in the darkness.  
  
Turning away from the door, Akane peered down the hallway, keeping  
perfectly still as she waited for her eyes to adjust. The feeble, reflected  
light of a fire stuttered through the corridors, bringing the hallway to  
life with the soft edges of a dozen shadows that danced in step to a silent  
rhythm. Ranma melted silently into the shadows, the tip of her ponytail a  
flickering ember that vanished into the night.  
  
Akane held still for a moment longer; only as shapes began to emerge from  
the darkness did she step forward. A table pressed up against the left  
wall, a frame hung on the right, what appeared to be a grandfather clock -  
broken, judging by the lack of ticking - at the end of the hall. Despite  
the darkness, dust and cold, the room felt suddenly much more like a home.  
  
"This way, Akane."  
  
Akane followed the voice that echoed back and forth off the wooden walls,  
turning to follow it toward the right at the end of the hall. The  
crackling noise grew louder, the light more insistent as she rounded the  
corner, focused somehow on her as if it were an eye.  
  
Ranma stopped in front of a door, waiting for Akane to catch up. As she  
did, Ranma turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open, letting it  
fall away from her grasp to swing aside.  
  
A small man, silhouetted against the fireplace, sat motionless before them  
in a simple room of wood and stone. Ranma stepped into the room whilst  
Akane waited on the threshold, watching closely.  
  
"Hello, Happosai."  
  
"Why, hello there," Happosai answered, not turning from the flames, "Master  
Saotome."  
  
"I'm ... glad you're not dead."  
  
"So am I, my dear girl. Who is your friend there?"  
  
"That is Akane. She's my ... apprentice."  
  
Akane swallowed, taking a step forward as her name was mentioned. She  
stopped as a small, silhouetted hand raised itself to halt her.  
  
"You should turn on the lights," Happosai instructed, "so I can see you."  
  
Akane blinked in confusion. Lights? Wasn't the fire already burning?  
  
"The switch is by the door," Ranma commented.  
  
Akane nodded dumbly, and reached out behind herself, fumbling her fingers  
up and down the door frame until they stumbled across a small plastic  
switch protruding from the surface. She flicked the switch and immediately  
screwed her eyes closed as one by one, bright fluorescent lights flared  
into being overhead, flooding the room with a sterile glow.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Akane forced her eyes open slightly to look at Ranma who was staring at  
her. She nodded, reaching up to scratch the back of her head. "Yeah.  
Sorry. Had to get used to it."  
  
Ranma nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the old man, who still had not  
moved from his sitting position. Akane stepped up behind him as well,  
slowly, her eyes still focusing on the surroundings.  
  
"How come you don't use the lights if you have them?"  
  
"Same reason I boarded up the windows, my dear Akane. I like the  
darkness."  
  
Happosai turned slowly on the small rug that supported him, his frail old  
body clearly protesting the motion as angrily as the front door had. He  
was a withered man, small and weak in appearance, with a wispy moustache  
that hung like a corpse, loosely attached to the old man's face.  
  
His eyes, old and bloodshot, lit up brightly when they caught sight of  
Akane, however, his face instantly transforming into a picture of  
youthful exuberance as he looked her up and down.  
  
"My, ohh my," he slowly breathed, his eyes wandering, "you certainly are  
a beautiful one, Akane. Almost as beautiful as my dearest Ranma!"  
  
Akane jolted slightly at the old man's words, half out of surprise, half  
out of confusion. Should she feel complimented?  
  
"Please, both of you, sit down."  
  
Ranma lowered herself into what appeared to be a sitting position - Akane  
couldn't really tell beneath that cloak - and Akane followed, putting the  
old man's "compliment" out of her mind for the moment.  
  
"Now, why do you disturb an old man such as myself?"  
  
"I need to ask a favour of you, Happosai."  
  
"A favour? Of your student? What can I do that you can't?"  
  
"You know you're not my student any longer, Happosai," Ranma said with a  
sigh, "you achieved your mastery many years ago."  
  
"I didn't pass all of the tests, Master."  
  
"You did, Happosai. I awarded you mastery, and that is all."  
  
"But without testing one's speed, one can't truly consider oneself ..."  
Happosai paused for a moment, an indiscernible moment, and a flash of  
movement screamed from him toward Ranma, only to be met with another flash  
when it arrived there.  
  
Happosai squirmed, his outstretched hand a tiny distance from the swell of  
Ranma's breast, his shaking fingers curling slightly, trying desperately  
to make contact. Ranma's grip was firm, however, and Happosai could not  
move his hand.  
  
" ... a master," he finished, helplessly.  
  
"That was not a test I set you," Ranma stiffly lectured, eyes marked with  
contempt, "and there would be no reward for passing it."  
  
"Sometimes," Happosai said, cradling his hand to his chest as Ranma  
released it, "passing the test is its own reward, Master."  
  
Akane boggled, subconsciously crossing her arms over her chest, as she  
watched the two - master and student - talk. The discussion continued for  
a time, mired in memories, reminiscences and remembrances, with little of  
substance to which she could cling for understanding.  
  
"So you want me to train Akane," Happosai said, bringing the discussion  
both to the present and to Akane's interest. His eyes turned to her and  
wandered upwards, past her eyes, her forehead, to her hair. "I see you've  
begun already."  
  
"It was ... interrupted," Ranma replied with a wince.  
  
"Akane," Happosai spoke, his voice somehow capturing her undivided  
attention, "please go and wait in the hall. I wish to speak to Ranma  
alone."  
  
"Okay," Akane answered, raising herself to her feet and stepping toward the  
hallway. She closed the door behind her and blinked, wondering why she had  
agreed quite so easily. She did not want to re-enter the room, so she made  
a compromise with herself by pressing her ear quietly to the door.  
  
* * *  
  
"You ask too much of me," Happosai grumbled, staring at the door as it  
closed.  
  
"I ask you to begin the awakening. You are a better instructor than I, and  
you always were."  
  
"A better learner as well," Happosai opined with a wan smile. "Ranma, I am  
one-hundred-and-twelve years old. Twice before you have asked me to train  
those who follow you. I have seen what has happened when I do."  
  
"And you have seen what happens when you don't, and the apprentice is  
unready."  
  
"Ranma, I ... she was too powerful for her own good. After the first died,  
I thought awakening the second would save her, but ... it did not."  
  
"I know, Happosai. I know," Ranma replied, a regretful tone to her voice.  
"I have learned since that day. Just begin the awakening, show her what it  
means, and I will shape her from there."  
  
"I ... can't," Happosai said with a sigh, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Listen to me, Happosai," Ranma said firmly, narrowing her eyes. "The  
hunters have found her. She watched me kill one of them. They can see  
her now, and they are following her. If she doesn't begin the awakening  
soon, she will never stand a chance. Can't you see that?"  
  
"She is no different to the others," Happosai stated. "Let her die, hide  
the next more carefully."  
  
"There will BE no next!" Ranma yelled, her eyes flaring with anger. "She  
is the end. She is different. You saw how she looks - it cannot be a  
coincidence. If she dies ..."  
  
"She is the last? Her line is a thousand years old," Happosai stammered,  
disbelief tainting his voice. "There are no more?"  
  
"There are none," Ranma confirmed. "I don't have ten years to awaken her.  
You must begin it, and you must begin it now. It will still take weeks,  
but that is managable. If the years I spent teaching you are worth  
anything, Happosai, do this for me."  
  
"She will be uncontrollable ...."  
  
"I will control her. I will show her how to use her strength. That, I can  
teach."  
  
"Teach how? You banished your strength after the last. She would crush  
you."  
  
"I ... was given the key to unlock it again. After the last I wanted no  
more part of this, but Akane is the only chance I have left. I won't let  
the legacy of a thousand years die without taking this one, final chance.  
I've taken too many steps on my journey to abandon it at the very end. I  
can still keep Father's promise."  
  
Happosai fell silent, brow furrowed in concentration as he considered  
Ranma's words.  
  
"As ... you wish," he said at length, a sigh on his lips. "I will open  
Pandora's Box for you."  
  
"How long will it take?"  
  
"How long do we have?"  
  
"Perhaps three days. Four, at most."  
  
"That is not much time," Happosai said with a frown, his hand absently  
stroking the top of his head. "I ... will try to have her ready in two."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane opened the door slowly as she heard her name called, her eyes wide  
in surprise at the words she had heard. The bright light stung them, but  
she did not and could not care. Ranma met her look with a stern gaze, the  
same gaze she had given when she had told Akane of Shoryoutensei.  
  
"Ranma," Happosai said, "leave us for a day and a night. Akane, come  
here to me."  
  
Ranma moved wordlessly away from Happosai, drifting like some ethereal  
wraith past Akane. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod as she  
passed the Tendo girl, but nothing was said. Akane turned and watched her  
companion leave for the first time in what seemed like forever, then turned  
back to face her new master. Without realising, she closed the door behind  
herself.  
  
"Turn out the light."  
  
Akane did so, again without realising, and the room was drenched in shadows  
once more. She stepped toward Happosai and sat behind him, somewhat  
intimidated but eternally curious.  
  
"I have no doubt that you heard every word that was said," Happosai said  
without a moment's hesitation, "with your ear pressed to the door like  
that. It was quite a challenge to hide that from Ranma, you know. She  
does like to keep secrets."  
  
"I heard. I heard the part about letting me die, that was quite loud."  
  
"That was a test for Ranma."  
  
"A test?" Akane asked skeptically.  
  
"You must understand," Happosai explained, as he shifted to face her,  
"Ranma has been your steward for nearly nine hundred years. She has seen  
your ancestors born and dead countless times. She is protective of you,  
more so than any other. She's only ever asked me to awaken one other. I  
suspected it was because she was lazy; perhaps she was. So this time, I  
checked - but no, it seems this time, she has a valid reason."  
  
"Because I am the last."  
  
"Yes, you are. You don't have any sisters, do you?"  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Strange. You should. And your mother's dead, of course, so there are no  
more children on the way. I suppose it is strange that it would take nigh  
on a millennium for such a circumstance to happen."  
  
"What circumstance? And how do you know my mother is dead?" Akane asked,  
the reflected fire in her eyes burning like the curiosity in her heart.  
  
"Ranma ... tells me these things," Happosai offered, sounding apologetic.  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so blunt. The circumstance I mean is  
that you are an only child. Throughout your entire family's history, two  
things have been constant: the children were always girls, and there was  
always - always - more than one."  
  
"Until now," Akane said softly. "What does it mean?"  
  
"I don't know why it happened, but it means that you must fulfil your  
family's legacy, or you must conceive a child to do so."  
  
"A ch ... child?" Akane stammered, taken aback. She was still at school,  
she was sixteen, she was not ready to even begin thinking about being a  
mother. "I ... uh ...."  
  
"Relax, relax," Happosai said with a smile. "Don't worry about that. You  
have more pressing concerns - like those who hunt you."  
  
"Y ... yeah," Akane agreed, somehow relieved to be talking about the more  
ordinary topic of her supposedly-imminent death. "One of the hunters came  
to the cave where we were training."  
  
"Looking just like Ranma, I imagine?"  
  
"How did you know?" Akane asked, feeling suddenly dwarfed by the  
diminutive man's seemingly immense knowledge. The reasons why Ranma had  
brought her here were becoming clear.  
  
"I'm well acquainted with the Hidari Project."  
  
"Hidari Project?" Akane inquired, the name familiar to her from Ranma's  
explanation. She had mentioned no "project", however.  
  
"Ranma is an immensely powerful creature," Happosai explained, withdrawing  
a small pipe from beside himself. He held the end of the pipe upside down  
in the fireplace, letting the tobacco ignite, then withdrew it and took a  
deep breath of the smoke.  
  
"There are those who would like to duplicate that strength. Hidari was a  
sculptor, famous for his skill. The legend goes that he once saw a woman  
of such astounding beauty and grace that he sat immediately to make a  
sculpture of her. So perfect was his copy of her, so imbued with the very  
essence of his skill and dedication, that it came to life. It is for him  
that the Project is named."  
  
"Trying to make a perfect copy of Ranma?"  
  
"Exactly. The project began years ago, when the technology to recreate a  
living being was in its infancy. The first clones were crude,  
unintelligent, and unskilled.  
  
"Perhaps," Happosai added with a daring smile, "an accurate simulation of  
Ranma in her youth. Don't tell her I said that."  
  
Akane smiled and nodded, grateful for the moment's humour. Her muscles and  
mind were tense, and any chance to relax, even if but a little, was eagerly  
seized and utilised.  
  
"However, time marches ever on, and with it marches technology," Happosai  
continued, the moment passed. "With each iteration of the clones, they  
grow closer and closer to the goal that they seek: Ranma - perfected."  
  
"But ... why? Why would they do that? Why spend so long trying to copy  
Ranma?"  
  
"Go and pull the board from that window, Akane," Happosai instructed,  
indicating a nearby wall. Akane nodded and complied, stepping lightly to  
the window and pulling the wooden barricade away, surprised to find it  
unattached in any way. Placing it gently upon the floor, she returned to  
Happosai's side and sat.  
  
Through the window the two could see Ranma, standing beside a cherry  
blossom tree that marked the edge of a small pond, its perimeter marked by  
the tree line of the hill that extended up behind it. Ranma was a shadow  
of black and red, still and unmoving.  
  
"Ranma is a weapon," Happosai stated, thin eyes staring through a cloud of  
cigarette smoke at the girl. "A demon, a being from another realm. No  
power of this world will stop her. Armies have marched against her, the  
lives of countless men have fallen before her. The hopes of a hundred  
causes have failed against her very presence."  
  
"A - a demon? I ... Gods .... " Akane stammered, her eyes flung wide as  
the gates of hell to the demon before her. She had suspected, but  
never ... "Are you serious? Is this some sort of test?"  
  
"She commands and craves anger, hate, death and destruction," Happosai  
continued. "They are to her as food and water are to you and I. She does  
not merely -desire- them; she -needs- them. There is nothing upon this  
Earth that will stop her from having them."  
  
"Why do you help her?!" Akane demanded. The duty of all martial artists  
was to destroy evil, not to aid it!  
  
"The hunger she obeys is not her own," Happosai explained. "She was born  
a human. Her nature is that of good. She tries, with all her heart, to  
fight off the instincts inside her. She hates what she has become. The  
cloak of waterskin she wears helps to contain the fire."  
  
"Waterskin?" Akane murmured, memories of the Hidari clone flooding to her.  
The cloak he wore, the names he called her; creatures from beyond this  
world. Legends, myths, she had thought - was it possible Ranma was one of  
them? All of them?  
  
"The cloak is water imbued with a scale of the Grand Dragon Ryujin. It is  
water to her fire; it holds her back, hides her from the hunters who follow  
her. She would not be ... pleasant without it.  
  
"Throughout her life, there has been only one thing to which she has held  
true. She has killed or lost those she cared about, and the only exception  
has been your family. Come what may, she has always used her strength to  
protect and guard your ancestors."  
  
"What ... what did our family ever do for her to earn that kind of  
loyalty?" Akane asked timidly, overwhelmed by the sheer gravity of  
Happosai's implications.  
  
"You have ... special meaning to her. All you need know is that she will  
never betray you. She would pull down the heavens themselves if you asked  
it of her."  
  
"And maybe even if I didn't," Akane said quietly, a solemn edge to her  
voice. Why slaughter legions to protect one? What was the rationale?  
What was the point?  
  
Outside, Ranma turned and walked a short distance along the edge of the  
pond, lowering herself to her knees after a few short steps. The back of  
her head bobbed down, almost disappearing from view, as she looked at her  
reflection upon the mirrored water.  
  
"Tell me - what do you think of her now?"  
  
"I ... think that she must be evil," Akane answered honestly, unable to  
hide the truth. In spite of the kindnesses Ranma had shown her, in spite  
of the friendship and the company, after Happosai's words she could not  
fathom Ranma being anything other than evil, a destroyer of lives.  
  
"Why is that?" Happosai asked, leaning one hand on one knee as he took a  
long, slow drag from his pipe. "Because she kills?"  
  
Akane nodded silently, her eyes fixed upon the shape of Ranma outside. A  
gust of wind howled past the cabin, sending Ranma's hair and cloak  
billowing back and forth in the wind.  
  
"Then you are making a mistake," Happosai said gravely, turning his eyes  
to Akane. "Ranma is an angel of death, yes, a devourer of souls, but that  
is her purpose. She is Grand Dragon Ryukyu the Red, Lord of Fire and  
Death, given flesh, form, and purpose. She brings fire to the world, and  
death to those who are destined for it. Life is meaningless without death,  
and so Ryukyu is a necessary part of the balance."  
  
"A ... a ... a dragon?" Akane sputtered, head whirling to face the old man  
who sat beside her. A demon was far-fetched enough, but a dragon? She had  
studied mythology at school, dragons were a race of a higher plane of  
existence, the providers of the earth and the elements. How could one  
be standing in the grass behind the cabin? "You have GOT to be kidding  
me."  
  
"Oh, things would be much simpler if I was, my dear," Happosai commented  
with a wry smile. "No, what I'm telling you is the truth."  
  
"A dragon ...." Akane repeated, a disbelieving chuckle coming to her voice.  
How absurd it seemed. She had been travelling all this time with a member  
of an ancient race. The first friend she had ever had who wasn't  
intimidated by her, and why? Because she was a dragon.  
  
It was almost - almost - comical. Barely a few weeks ago she was concerned  
solely with a gymnastics competition, a sprained shoulder, and the results  
of the mathematics test she had taken. Now, she was confronting a wizened  
old martial arts master about her friend the dragon. How surreal could one  
person's life become?  
  
"Do you intend to attack me?" Happosai asked, snapping Akane out of her  
thoughts.  
  
"What?"  
  
Happsai gestured toward her hand; she glanced down, and blinked in surprise  
as she realised she was firmly gripping Shoryoutensei's handle. She had  
almost forgotten about the sword, and certainly had not thought about using  
it.  
  
"I ... no," she said hesitantly, holding the sword for a moment longer  
before releasing the handle. "Sorry."  
  
"Are you feeling all right?"  
  
"I think," she said quietly, capturing Happosai's attention. "I think I  
need to lie down."  
  
"Before you do, I would like to put a question to you," Happosai said with  
a shake of his head, laying one hand gently upon Akane's knee.  
  
"What is that?" Akane asked in a resigned tone, long having accepted this  
to be the day for discussion. After what she had heard so far today, she  
felt nothing could shock her. She did not imagine she would get much  
sleep, however, with so many suggested facts to digest.  
  
"How many friends do you have?"  
  
"What?" Akane asked, puzzled by the non sequitur. "I ... uh ... two."  
  
"And their names?"  
  
"Yuka," Akane stated, "and Sayuri."  
  
"Why are they your friends?"  
  
"Because," Akane began, her voice running out of steam as she puzzled over  
Happosai's seemingly simple question. Why -did- Yuka and Sayuri like her?  
Did they even like her? They merely associated with her because unlike  
the majority of students they were not intimidated by her. "Because they  
aren't afraid of me."  
  
"Eighty or so years ago, Akane, when I first met Ranma, I asked her the  
very same questions. She said she had no friends but me, because I wasn't  
afraid of her. You are more like her than you think."  
  
"Like her? A dragon? A killer?" Akane asked, bewildered, as she stared at  
the old man. How could she be anything like Ranma?  
  
"You've always felt different to the other people you've known. You've  
been stronger, faster, quicker to adapt. You've had the ability to crush  
those who stand against you. Until Ranma. Ranma shows up, full of mystery  
and secrets, a girl who you cannot defeat, who offers you no assurances,  
and yet you immediately trust her and follow her into the forest, leaving  
behind the safety of your home. Why did you trust her?"  
  
"I ..." Akane began, sifting through her memories to track down the exact  
reason she had told herself to believe Ranma and follow her. It came to  
her only moments later: her mother. It had all been about vengeance for  
her mother. "She said she would help me to avenge my mother's death."  
  
"So you set out to find the cause of a parent's death, joining a quest you  
did not know or understand, following Ranma because of a bond you felt with  
her, a kinship, if you will."  
  
"I ... suppose," Akane admitted cautiously, her tone guarded. Where was  
this going?  
  
"Tell me, Akane - have you ever, ever, felt a bond with anyone that was as  
strong or as deep as the one you felt that day with Ranma?"  
  
"I don't," Akane began, the denial trying to immediately escape her mouth,  
to fling itself forward before she could think. She stopped it in its  
tracks and forced herself to think back, to gloss over her life and  
remember the moment, the person she met who had given her that same  
feeling, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not. "No. Never."  
  
"Interesting, isn't it?" Happosai asked, raising a withered eyebrow. "That  
you would feel so connected to a complete stranger, when in your entire  
life you have never really managed to connect with anyone?"  
  
Akane chewed on her lower lip, pondering the old man's words. It was true  
that she had felt an instant affinity for the girl. In some ways, it felt  
like more. She had shrugged it off as curiosity at the time, but what if  
it was indeed more?  
  
"I would like to show you something," Happosai spoke, interrupting her  
thoughts. "Watch this carefully."  
  
Akane nodded. Happosai, seeing her nod, stood and walked to a cabinet that  
rested against the nearest wall. Opening it, he peered inside, searching  
back and forth with one hand until he found what he was looking for. With  
a sound of satisfaction, he pulled the object out of the cabinet.  
  
"This," he said, holding up a small dagger, "is an ornamental dagger. It's  
something of an heirloom in my family. My father gave it to me when he  
died; he was given the blade by his father before him. I don't know how  
old it is, but I do know it is very sharp."  
  
The old man sat slowly, grunting at the effort of folding his legs under  
himself, and let out a satisfied sigh as he sank back into place. He  
placed one hand flat on the ground, raised the dagger above his head, and  
with a glance at Akane, swung the weapon toward his outstretched fingers.  
  
Akane gasped, instinctively squinting her eyes closed, knowing what was  
about to happen. The cry she expected did not come, however; what did come  
was a sharp pain, followed by a milky warmness, in her right hand.  
  
She opened her eyes slowly, and let out another gasp as the sight of her  
bloodied hand tightly gripping the dual-edged blade filled her eyes.  
Droplets of blood dribbled out of her clenched fist, splattering onto the  
ground below. Astonished, she turned her wide eyes to Happosai, who was  
smiling at her.  
  
"Strange, don't you think?" Happosai asked, his grip on the blade  
unwavering. "The strongest instinct for a human being is  
self-preservation. Once you dig beneath the pride, honour, cowardice and  
every other emotion, at the core of it all, is a desire to live and stay  
alive. It is a trait common amongst almost all living creatures."  
  
Akane slowly drew her hand back from the dagger, her fingers shaking  
slightly as she looked down at her blood-coated skin. The cut was long and  
narrow, and blood streamed from it at an alarming rate.  
  
"However, it is an instinct you don't seem to share," Happosai continued,  
watching Akane as she examined her wound. "No, it seems that you would  
rather suffer an injury yourself than watch me, a person you barely know,  
injure myself. Unusual behaviour indeed. Why did you do it?"  
  
"I ...." Akane began, glancing back to Happosai for a moment as she tried  
to choose her words. No words would come, however, and she found herself  
staring at the old man in silence.  
  
Happosai gave her a comforting smile, and gently placed his hand upon hers.  
"It is very unusual behaviour - for a human. But, that does not explain  
your situation."  
  
"What?" Akane asked, blinking in confusion as she looked down at Happosai's  
withered hand upon her own.  
  
"The fact is, Akane, I wouldn't have told you this if you didn't need to  
know," Happosai said slowly, carefully choosing his words. He took a deep  
breath of his pipe, deflating in stature as he exhaled the smoke, seemingly  
drained. "You ... must know what Ranma is so you can understand her,  
because you are kin to her. You feel a bond with her because she is the  
only other of your kind on this Earth. She is not human, and neither are  
you."  
  
Akane's eyes widened even further, her breath caught in her throat, as  
Happosai turned her injured hand so the palm side faced up. The bleeding  
had stopped entirely, and the wound seemed to stitch itself closed before  
her eyes.  
  
"You," Happosai continued, seeing the Tendo girl's utterly blank stare,  
"are Grand Dragon Ryujin the Blue, Lady of Light, Life and Water, the sworn  
enemy of Ryukyu the Red."  
  
* * *  
  
"How is it going?" Ranma asked, her voice echoing over the rippling surface  
of the pond. A small group of cherry blossoms tumbled down from the tree  
near the pond, their forms scattering across the turbulent surface.  
  
"We tread a dangerous path here," Happosai spoke softly, from behind Ranma.  
  
  
"I've spent the better part of a millenium treading dangerous paths," Ranma  
commented off-handedly. "Sometimes, it's best to stay on the path you  
know."  
  
"I have told her of you, and of herself. We have discussed her heritage at  
length. She is resting," Happosai said quietly, turning away as he heard  
Ranma sigh.  
  
"So she will hate me when she wakes up, just like all of the others,"  
Ranma noted morosely, eyes staring deep into the depths of the pond. "When  
they awaken all they remember is Ryukyu, the enemy of themselves, the taker  
of life, destroyer of their creations."  
  
"I don't know," Happosai argued. "I think you might be right. She -is-  
like Kayoko. Perhaps she shares Kayoko's ... unique viewpoint."  
  
"I hope you're right," Ranma said with a sigh. "I don't think I could  
cope with seeing her face filled with anger and hate."  
  
"She is strong," Happosai added with a shake of his head. "Ryujin's duty  
will not consume her. She will diminish, but she will remain Akane."  
  
"Your attitude has changed," Ranma observed, turning her head to look at  
the old man over her shoulder. "You said she would be uncontrollable."  
  
"She will be. You must grip her firmly, Ranma. Once the awakening begins,  
she will need an iron hand to keep her in line. It is vital that you  
teach her control."  
  
"The world is not ready for a rampant Lady Ryujin," Ranma agreed solemnly.  
"If I had any choice in the matter I would not force her to wake. Even  
now, I regret it. It should occur naturally."  
  
"So, why take this unnecessary risk?"  
  
"Because it IS necessary," Ranma replied. "Better for Lady Ryujin to  
consume the world than for Phoenix to consume her. You know that as well  
as I."  
  
"You're biased," Happosai said with a smile. "You want her for reasons  
that are entirely personal, and you know it."  
  
"Be quiet, Tatsujin," Ranma replied with a savage smirk. "I shall accept  
no cheek from you."  
  
"Apologies, Master," Happosai said with a bow, his eyes betraying his  
mirth. "I just hope your judgement is not clouded too badly by her  
appearance."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You know what I mean," Happosai spoke more seriously, the weight of his  
voice indicating the gravity of his thoughts. "The resemblance is uncanny.  
It can't be a coincidence."  
  
"You're right," Ranma replied, stirring the crystalline surface of the pond  
with a fingertip. The water misted at her touch, leaving behind a trail of  
frosted white where it passed. "To look at her is to look eight hundred  
years into the past. It's beyond uncanny - it's exact, an absolute  
likeness."  
  
"And what does that mean?"  
  
"You tell me, Tatsujin scholar. You're the expert on dragons."  
  
"I wish I knew," Happosai admitted with a shrug. "I find it troubling that  
she should look so similar. Don't you?"  
  
"In a way," Ranma replied, tilting her head as she examined her own  
reflection. Too many scars. "But it is good to see her again. I've  
missed her, all these centuries."  
  
"She is not Kayoko," Happosai spoke firmly, turning to place his hand on  
Ranma's shoulder. "It would do you well to remember that."  
  
"I know, I know," Ranma replied irritably, waving Happosai's hand off with  
her own. "I can still daydream, can't I?"  
  
"Even after eight hundred years, you're still a teenager," Happosai said, a  
note of disbelief in his voice. "I suggest you put such hormonal thoughts  
out of your mind, for Akane's sake as well as your own."  
  
"Even after a hundred years, you still act like my father," Ranma  
countered, turning to give Happosai a smile. "Don't worry. I know my  
place."  
  
"It will be good to see her again," Happosai offered, matching Ranma's  
smile with one of his own. He turned and headed into the cabin, leaving  
Ranma alone with her thoughts. It was not such a bad thing to allow the  
Lord of Death a taste of happiness once in a while, after all.  
  
* * *  
  
As soon as she opened her eyes, the voices began.  
  
Akane groaned softly as her eyes fluttered open, the thin light of an  
evening sky peeking in through a small window set high upon the wall.  
It was a quiet, peaceful evening, the songs of birds wafting through the  
twilight, the calling of crickets providing a rhythm.  
  
At least, that was how it was supposed to be.  
  
A thousand voices crowded into Akane's head, the endless din of every  
living creature around her calling out its own song, a song only she could  
hear. She sat up with a start, looking around timidly for the sources of  
the voices, but nothing presented itself.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Her own voice echoed loudly through the room, and for a moment, all was  
silent. The birds no longer sang, the crickets no longer chirped. It  
lasted but a moment, though, before the din began again.  
  
Scrambling to her feet, Akane rushed over toward the window and, standing  
on tiptoes, peered through it. She gasped, wide-eyed, as the sight of the  
pond and the forest filled her eyes.  
  
The entire forest was aglow; not with a natural light, but the light of a  
thousand souls, contained within the leaves, the trees, the birds and the  
grass. Every living thing called out to her, the chaotic din giving way  
to a melodious harmony that coated her ears like honey.  
  
A smile crossed her face as she stared at the dance of nature, the tiny  
patterns of life that she had never noticed before emerging before her in  
the movements of the leaves amongst the branches, the curling of the waves  
upon the pond surface, the rustling of the grass and the tiny birds that  
hovered busily between the flowers.  
  
"Beautiful ... so beautiful ...."  
  
Face pressed up against the cold glass, she stared until her eyes burned,  
the glass steamed from her breath, and her toes ached from the strain. It  
was not enough to look. She had to touch the forest.  
  
* * *  
  
"What on Earth is she doing, Happosai?"  
  
"That is a good question," Happosai replied, stroking his chin. His eyes  
followed Akane as she crawled through the grass, delight on her face as she  
tenderly stroked a single blade with her hand, curling her fingers around  
the tip and smiling enormously. "What happened before I came outside?"  
  
"She came out a few minutes ago and has been doing that ever since," Ranma  
explained, indicating the path Akane had taken from the cabin to the patch  
of grass with one hand. "She didn't seem to notice me at all. She just  
ran over there and started ... doing that."  
  
"I've never seen anything like it before," Happosai stated, taking a step  
toward Akane. He crouched, leaning forward to look more closely. "Akane?"  
  
Akane continued as she was, embracing the earth for a time before suddenly  
scrambling toward the pond. She crawled to the water's edge, wild eyes  
looking back and forth before settling upon her reflection. Slowly,  
gingerly, she reached out toward the surface, jumping back as her fingers  
made contact with the cool water. She clutched her hand to her chest for  
a moment, looking at it with concern for a moment before the newly-created  
ripples seized her attention.  
  
"Interesting," Happosai murmured thoughtfully, watching Akane carefully.  
"It's as if she's not aware of us at all."  
  
"What did you do to her?" Ranma asked, her tone becoming increasingly  
concerned. Never had she seen anything like this; she didn't like being  
taken off-guard.  
  
"I think I have awakened the dragon."  
  
"What?" Ranma exclaimed, whirling upon Happosai. "So soon? That's not  
possible!"  
  
"It certainly seems to be possible," Happosai mused.  
  
Akane interrupted their conversation with a burst of loud giggling as she  
splashed water back and forth with her hand. She lowered her head, sinking  
her chin into the mud that lined the pond's edge.  
  
"Look at her," Ranma barked, gesturing pointedly toward Akane. "You've  
driven her mad! She's acting like a child, not a dragon. How can you say  
you've awakened her?"  
  
"I can feel Lady Ryujin's presence," Happosai commented. Akane looked up  
as the words left his mouth, looked left and right for a brief moment, then  
returned her attention to the pond. "The dragon has awoken."  
  
"She knows her name," Ranma observed, her attention immediately captivated  
by Akane's response. She knelt alongside Happosai, an intently curious  
expression capturing her face.  
  
"She seems to be connected to the water, and she was drawn to the living  
forest," Happosai added, raising himself to his feet as he hummed  
contempatively. "Traits of Ryujin."  
  
"It's never happened like this before."  
  
"I can hardly sense Akane at all," Happosai said, closing his eyes, his  
brow furrowed in concentration. "It is as though she is asleep. I think  
... I think she is dreaming."  
  
"So she will wake up from this?" Ranma asked, gesturing towards Akane as  
the Tendo girl continued to play with the pond water.  
  
"I think so. I can't say for sure, but I think so."  
  
"It's beautiful!" Akane cried suddenly, her piercing voice making Happosai  
jump. The old man looked at Ranma for a moment, before the pair turned  
their eyes toward Akane.  
  
"Akane?" Ranma asked, stepping toward the girl. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"I can see them," Akane whispered, her voice flowing dreamily from her  
mouth. "So beautiful. So beautiful."  
  
"Can you hear me, Akane?" Ranma repeated, reaching over toward the  
raven-haired girl, stopping only when Happosai gripped her shoulder.  
  
"Leave her be," he instructed, shaking his head. "I think she is beginning  
to wake from the dream."  
  
"So what do we do now?" Ranma asked, pulling her arm away from Akane.  
  
"I suppose we wait," Happosai suggested. "There isn't much else we can  
do."  
  
"You know our time is short, Tatsujin," Ranma noted, turning back toward  
the cabin, folding her arms thoughtfully. "We don't have time for this."  
  
"I know," Happosai said with a sigh, the sound of Akane's delighted  
laughter ringing in the air. "Until she regains her senses, we have no  
choice."  
  
"So beautiful," Akane cried through her laughter, a broad smile spreading  
across her face. "Can you see the souls, Ryukyu?"  
  
Ranma spun in place, her eyes wide. "Lady Ryujin?"  
  
Akane raised her head and looked directly at Ranma, flashing him a smile  
that lasted but a moment, before turning her attention once more to the  
pond. Ranma called her name again, but Akane did not respond.  
  
"Perhaps we won't have to wait long after all," Happosai suggested. "Come,  
let's go inside and leave her alone."  
  
* * *  
  
"She is asleep now," Happosai spoke quietly, keeping his voice low as he  
stepped into the cabin's main room once again. Ranma sat by the fire,  
looking concerned. "She spoke again before she slept. Her mind is  
recovering - she is making remarkable progress."  
  
"I don't like this. This is too fast," Ranma said with a frown, as she  
stared into the flames. "Much too fast. This was a mistake."  
  
Images of Akane laying in the grass outside - staring up at the sky in  
utter amazement, her attention completely captivated by a flock of birds  
flying overhead - filled Ranma's mind.  
  
"You said I should hurry," Happosai countered, carefully sitting down  
alongside Ranma. "That said, even I didn't know it would progress this  
quickly. She seems to have a natural predisposition towards dragonhood."  
  
"There are years of mental and physical preperation required for the dragon  
to awaken. The body and the mind must be prepared. No 'natural  
predisposition' will change that."  
  
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Happosai opined, taking a long breath from his  
pipe. "Time will tell one way or the other. All we can do is support  
her."  
  
"I thought we would begin the awakening today, not complete it. This was  
a mistake. Those Phoenix bastards have forced my hand, and look what has  
happened as a result. It wasn't supposed to happen this way."  
  
"It isn't necessarily a bad thing. Look on the bright side of things,"  
Happosai said, knowing when it was wise to change the subject, "she doesn't  
seem to hate you. That can only make things easier."  
  
"That's good, at least," Ranma said with a snort. "I'm glad to hear at  
least some positive news after the disaster this afternoon."  
  
"You shouldn't be so upset about her behaviour," Happosai said with a sigh,  
reaching into the fire with his pipe to reignite it. "Such eccentricity is  
... to be expected. She has had a lot to deal with."  
  
"She was rolling in the grass like some sort of animal," Ranma muttered,  
shaking her head. "Such 'eccentricity' is -not- to be expected. She must  
be focused if she is going to avoid the hunters."  
  
"That is why you must protect her until she is ready," Happosai said,  
turning to look at Ranma. "Whether or not she had awakened fully, she  
would still need protection."  
  
"I don't know if I can protect her. This could not have escaped the notice  
of Phoenix," Ranma commented, her gaze buried deep in the burning embers of  
the fire. "They are coming, and there will be too many for me to hold  
back."  
  
"I know," Happosai conceded, resting his chin heavily on his hands. "I  
know. But we've pushed her down this path, there is no turning back now."  
  
"This was a mistake," Ranma said softly, watching as the flames consumed a  
twig, curling it into ashes. "I should not have come here. I've signalled  
Phoenix by awakening her, and what have I gained? An insane dragon-child."  
  
"I've never seen a student quite like her before. She absorbed everything  
I said as if it were obvious. Perhaps she knows more than she realises.  
Just because we haven't seen this reaction before, doesn't necessarily mean  
that it is a bad thing."  
  
"You have wisdom beyond your years, Happosai," Ranma said with a heavy  
sigh. "Why do you spoil it with such youthful optimism?"  
  
* * *  
  
Akane rolled over in her sleep, moaning softly to herself as beads of sweat  
trickled down her forehead. The streak of blue in her hair had blossomed  
in the evening hours, growing into a cluster of blue tendrils that  
stretched the length of her hair.  
  
"I would feel better about this if she didn't take it so lightly," Ranma  
whispered from the doorway, watching Akane through the darkness. "A person  
in her situation shouldn't be laughing."  
  
"Ryujin ... she isn't you, Ranma," Happosai spoke slowly, choosing his  
words carefully. "Her domain contains light and laughter. Compared to  
you, she will never be as ..."  
  
"Grumpy?" Ranma offered, turning to give Happosai a dangerous glare. "Is  
that the word you were looking for?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, that was exactly the word I was looking for,"  
Happosai said with a defiant smile.  
  
"Kayoko called me 'grumpy' as well, you know," Ranma recalled, narrowing  
her eyes. "My 'grumpiness' is what has kept her family alive for a  
thousand years. Akane would be an ornamental statue upon the nether realm  
if not for it. It is a trait she should learn."  
  
"She will learn, she will absorb, and she will excel in every field that is  
important to her," Happosai observed, eyes following the tiny wrinkles in  
Akane's furrowed brow. "She is not your pet or your plaything. Don't  
try to force her; let her grow on her own."  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
"I tend to be right quite often," Happosai contended with a smile, hoping  
to lighten the mood. The frown on Ranma's face told him in no uncertain  
terms that such tricks would not work.  
  
"She acts ... she acts like a child, toying with powers she doesn't  
understand," Ranma said with contempt, watching Akane roll back and forth  
atop the futon. "What kind of dragon lowers herself to the ground like a  
common animal? The Mother of Life with her face in the dirt. It was  
disgraceful."  
  
"Ahhh, the truth at last," Happosai commented, a smile of recognition  
crossing his face. "You don't want her rubbing your Kayoko's face in the  
mud. I knew there had to be a reason for all this anger."  
  
"That's ridiculous, I'm just saying--"  
  
"I know exactly what you are saying, Ranma. You should not be thinking  
such things about her."  
  
Ranma sighed, her shoulders slumping. Happosai's words rang true.  
  
"She makes my beloved act like an infant," she lamented. "Kayoko would  
turn in her grave if she saw how Akane acts, wearing her face."  
  
"That is irrelevant," Happosai said firmly. "Your place is to protect her,  
not to judge her. She's been given a wonderful gift; at least give her a  
moment to comprehend it before you start crowding her thoughts with duties  
and responsibilities."  
  
"Gifts always come with a price," Ranma muttered, bristling. She turned  
and left the room. Happosai sighed, and with a lingering glance at Akane,  
followed his Lord.  
  
* * *  
  
"I should have listened to you," Ranma said, her eyes upon the smouldering  
remains that glowed in the fireplace.  
  
"You've never listened to me, Ranma," Happosai observed, smiling for a  
moment. "You've always made the right decisions on your own. Eventually."  
  
"Not this time," Ranma replied with a shake of her head. "She was not  
ready. We pushed her; too hard, too quickly. I'm afraid we may have  
broken her mind."  
  
"Have faith," Happosai admonished. "Give her a chance. She will sleep,  
she will dream, and her mind will recover. Don't be so quick to write off  
her chances. You are letting your feelings for Kayoko cloud your vision."  
  
"Perhaps I am," Ranma admitted with a sigh. "Akane worries me. I've seen  
many an awakening, and none of them have been like this. There is  
something different about this girl."  
  
"She is not the dragon that Kayoko was," Happosai admitted. "But that's  
not to say she couldn't be. Perhaps being different from the others is a  
good thing."  
  
"I don't know. I honestly don't know."  
  
"One way or the other, I don't think the situation is as bad as you  
imagine. Ryujin may have awakened, but she is still dreaming. I imagine  
today has been as much a shock for her as for Akane. Tomorrow will be the  
day her dream ends and she truly wakes."  
  
"You seem confident," Ranma observed, turning to look at the old man. "Do  
you know something I don't?"  
  
"You forget, Ranma," Happosai said, a glimmer in his eye as he rose to his  
feet. "I know a lot about dragons."  
  
"Forgive me if I don't share your optimism. Today has not yielded what I  
had hoped it would."  
  
Happosai stood in silence for a moment, watching Ranma carefully. After a  
time, he sighed, deciding that enough was enough.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm going to get some sleep," he said with a  
yawn. "I would suggest you do the same. Tomorrow is going to be a busy  
day for all of us."  
  
"Sleep can wait."  
  
"Have it your way," Happosai replied, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll  
see you both in the morning. Remember, you must have faith in Akane. She  
will need your support."  
  
"All right," Ranma said with a nod. She pursed her lips, staring into the  
fireplace for a moment longer before turning her gaze to the old man.  
"Happosai?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You didn't have to do any of this. Thank you."  
  
* * *  
  
A gust of wind washed over the log cabin, sending the leaves of the  
surrounding trees waving back and forth. From within the sea of motion, a  
solitary figure crouched motionless, a silent observer upon one of the many  
branches.  
  
"So, she still lives. Forgive me, Mother."  
  
Ukyo sank slowly into a sitting position, her eyes remaining on the cabin.  
There would be no honour in striking while Ranma slept. Revenge could wait  
until tomorrow.  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	8. Tomorrow

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
"Tomorrow"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
One thought, and one thought alone, struck Akane as she opened her eyes.   
The sunlight streamed through the window, reflecting off the ceiling and  
dazzling her eyes; the sounds of the birds and the rustling of trees filled  
her ears; the cotton blankets wrapped around her enveloped her skin in   
their warmth - and yet, the thought persisted.  
  
Gods, it's quiet.  
  
She sat up slowly, clutching her forehead as a stinging headache whipped   
across her mind, its touch briefly excruciating. She blinked, wincing at  
the pain, and then it was gone, leaving behind a vague fuzziness. The   
memory of dozens of voices calling to her washed over her mind and, for a  
moment, she imagined she could hear them again. Just as quickly as they  
appeared, however, the voices vanished into silence, leaving Akane alone.  
  
Alone?  
  
No, that was not entirely true. The sounds of speech were gone, but Akane  
could still hear something, a vague whisper, the ghost of a voice, the   
warmth of breath upon her ear, almost--   
  
A quiet creak filled the air, but to Akane it was like a gunshot - she   
jumped, her body spinning toward the sound of the noise. Ranma stood in   
the corner, her bright red ponytail highlighted by the sunlight against the  
rest of her body, which remained hidden in the shadows. She stepped   
forward, the old wooden floor creaking once more as she did, and stopped as  
her face came into the light. She bore an expression that seemed to be a  
combination of apprehension and curiosity.  
  
"Ranma?" Akane asked, peering at the other girl. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Ranma replied, the tension seeming  
to ease out of her face as she spoke. She attempted a smile. "You gave me  
quite a fright yesterday."  
  
"I ... did? When?"  
  
"You don't remember?"  
  
Akane thought for a moment, trying to remember the details of the preceding  
day. It was strange, she recalled speaking with Happosai, but after that,  
her memory dissolved into a blur. She could recall shapes, colours, the  
sound of Ranma's voice, but nothing solid, nothing real. No matter how   
hard she tried to remember, the events slipped through her mind's grasp   
like a dream forgotten, a vivid image scattered into nothingness the moment   
her eyes opened.  
  
"No, I ... I don't remember," Akane said at length, looking nonplussed.  
  
Ranma stepped toward Akane and sat gently upon the bed alongside her. She  
let out a long sigh and rested her chin in her hand, absently stroking a   
small scar on the side of her neck with her thumb.   
  
Akane watched the redheaded girl for a time, suddenly aware of just how   
small she was. The bed had barely shifted as Ranma lowered her weight onto  
it, and as she slouched forward it became apparent just how tiny she was.   
Where once Ranma had seemed to tower, ever confident, over her, Akane now   
found herself silently looking down upon this frail, weary-looking person,   
a girl who looked little more than a child.  
  
"What do you remember?" Ranma asked, turning her head to look at Akane.   
Her eyes were dull and, despite her youthful appearance, Akane saw in that  
moment the toll that eight-hundred-and-ninety-four years of life had taken  
on Ranma. She had never seen the Saotome girl looking so tired before.  
  
"I, uh," Akane stammered, trying to tear her eyes from Ranma's, "I remember  
talking to Happosai, about ... about ...."  
  
"About what?" Ranma prompted, turning and raising one leg up to rest on the  
bed. Her eyes bore into Akane, quiet apprehension giving way to restless  
curiosity as she waited on the Tendo girl's next word.  
  
"Dragons," Akane finished, her voice dreamy, the word barely more than a   
whisper. She looked up at the ceiling, mulling the word over for a time,  
mouthing it silently as if trying it out. Her mouth drew closed as she  
lowered her gaze to look once again at Ranma. She smiled, almost   
laughed. "Dragons."  
  
Ranma let out a long sigh of relief, and finally managed the smile she had  
been attempting. She reached forward and took Akane's hand into her own,  
curling her fingers around her companion's. "I was afraid you wouldn't  
remember anything."  
  
"Your hand," Akane commented, a tinge of surprise in her voice. She   
glanced down to the point of contact, mouth open slightly as Ranma's palm  
drifted across the tiny hairs on the back of her hand. "It's warm."  
  
Ranma blinked in surprise, looking down at Akane's hand. She tried to pull  
her hand away, but Akane gripped it firmly.   
  
"It used to be so cold," Akane commented, raising Ranma's hand with her own  
and pressing her other hand to it. She clasped it, sandwiching it between  
her own, and ran the tips of her fingers gently along Ranma's skin. "What   
did you do?"  
  
Akane looked up at Ranma's face, absently stroking the other girl's hand  
with her own. Ranma looked strangely flustered and a moment passed, the   
redhead appearing unsure what to say. Akane tilted her head, curious.   
  
"I didn't do anything," Ranma said suddenly, snatching her hand away. She   
placed her hands together in her lap, out of Akane's reach. Turning her  
eyes away, she stared at her own hands. "I'll ... wait for you outside.  
Come and talk to me when you're feeling up to it."  
  
With that, Ranma stood and left, her hair snaking out behind her. Akane  
blinked, remaining silent as she watched the girl leave. She blinked a   
couple of times, trying to fathom just what she had done to upset the other  
girl. It was strange, almost as if--  
  
Akane's eyes widened, as a flash of remembrance illuminated her mind. She  
remembered Happosai's words and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.   
  
"Dragons ...."  
  
* * *  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Ranma turned, just in time to see Akane charging towards her, Shoryoutensei  
gripped firmly in one hand. The Tendo girl skidded to a halt a short  
distance in front of her and lifted an accusatory finger to point at her.  
  
"You lied to me!"  
  
"What?" Ranma asked, taken by surprise. She had expected Akane to be a  
little delicate, not to come rampaging out of the cabin like a wounded   
bull.   
  
"You never said ANYTHING about being a dragon!"  
  
"I didn't say I wasn't a dragon either," Ranma replied, with a shrug.   
"Would you have come with me if I had told you from the beginning? Or   
would you have dismissed me as insane, stayed where you were, and died?"  
  
"That's not the point!" Akane fumed. "You said you were being honest with  
me, Ranma Saotome, and you damn well lied anyway!"  
  
"I did what I had to," Ranma said, turning away. "For that I am sorry."  
  
"Don't turn your back on me," Akane continued, anger in her voice. "Don't  
you dare ignore me."  
  
"Akane, we don't have time to argue!" Ranma shouted, whirling back upon the  
Tendo girl. "Right now there are fifty, a hundred, two hundred, who knows  
how many hunters headed right toward us, and they all want to kill you as  
painfully as possible. Don't you understand?"  
  
"And why should I even believe that?" Akane demanded. "Everyone we've met  
has been after you, not me."  
  
"That is because," Ranma said with a growl, drawing her face close to   
Akane's, "they know that to get to you, they have to go through me, and   
that as long as I draw breath I will rip out the heart of anyone who so   
much as harms a hair on your head. They understand that, why can't you?"  
  
"I ... damn it," Akane said with a sigh, visibly shrinking in stature   
before Ranma's intense glare. Faced with such strength of will, it was   
hard -not- to believe her.  
  
"Akane, I have sworn to protect you," Ranma said, her voice growing quiet,  
"and I am not about to give up that promise for anyone. Not even for you.  
That is why we can't waste time arguing about pointless things."  
  
"I hate this," Akane whispered, turning away from Ranma. She stepped   
toward the still waters of the pond, her shoulders slumping. "Why me? Why  
are all these people after me? What did I ever do to anyone?"  
  
"You are Lady Ryujin the Blue, Mother of Life and Bearer of Creation,"   
Ranma said, crossing her arms. "with that identity comes many enemies."  
  
"What the hell does all that -mean-?" Akane asked, sighing in frustration.  
Ranma, perhaps wisely, did not answer. "How can I be any of those things?  
I'm just ... me. I'm the same as I've always been."  
  
Akane sighed, staring into the depths of the pond. The water looked   
soothing, inviting, and it somehow cooled her temper. She felt drawn to   
it, comforted by it, and the anger she had felt dissipated. She looked at  
her own reflection, seeing in the water a tired, confused-looking girl,  
who--  
  
"What happened to my hair?" Akane exclaimed, raising a hand to touch at the  
large streak of deep blue that ran through her locks. She clutched at the  
blue hair with her fingers, tugging and pulling at it. "When did this   
happen?"  
  
"A few days ago," Ranma replied. "It's a sign of the emerging dragon.   
It's nothing to worry about. The same thing happened to me a long time  
ago."  
  
"Really?" Akane asked, peering over at Ranma, her fingers still clutching  
her hair. "It happened to you?"  
  
"Mm," Ranma said with a nod. She brushed the back of one hand against her  
ponytail. "My hair was black when I was young."  
  
"That is really weird," Akane said, returning her attention to her   
reflected visage. She ran her fingers through her hair, adjusting it  
slightly. A sigh escaped her. "I _guess_ blue looks kind of good ...."  
  
"Get used to it," Ranma commented. "One day it will all be blue. I   
think ... I think it suits you."  
  
Akane smiled a little at the compliment, and turned her attention back to  
the still waters. "Blue it is, then, I guess."  
  
"Awakening the dragon brings many changes, Akane," Ranma said, stepping up  
behind the Tendo girl. "Your hair is the least of them. You'll need to be  
careful from now on - there are many who do not like the company of   
dragonkind."  
  
"So what if I -am- a dragon," Akane muttered, letting her hand drop. "Even   
if I am, I've never hurt anyone, and I don't plan on it. Why can't they   
leave me alone?"  
  
"You have much to learn, young one," Ranma observed, rubbing her forehead.  
"Such naivety will only lead to your death."  
  
"Don't call me 'young one'," Akane grumbled. "It makes me sound like a   
child."  
  
She pondered for a time why she had so readily accepted what Happosai, and  
now Ranma, had told her. In a way, at some level, she supposed, it made  
sense. She had never felt truly alone, even when she was by herself. She  
had always felt the warmth of another; she had assumed it was her   
conscience, her superego, or whatever it was supposed to be called. The  
thought that it could have been another being inside her, trying to   
communicate with her all these years, did not surprise her as much as she  
expected.  
  
Her thoughts turned to her martial arts, to the tournaments she had won and  
the many battles she had fought. Always, without fail, she had fought   
fairly and evenly, always striking to win the fight rather than injure her  
opponent. It would only make sense for one concerned with life and   
creation to be averse to damaging that which she creates.  
  
Right?  
  
Akane sighed. She didn't really know what to believe. As bizarre as it   
sounded, perhaps this dragon theory wasn't so far fetched. She had always  
felt a little different to the other students at her school, and even to   
her father. The only person she had ever felt a connection with was her  
mother, and she died before Akane had a chance to truly get to know her.  
  
A dragon? She couldn't even begin to comprehend what it meant to be a   
dragon. She still felt like an ordinary human; although, if she was a   
dragon, she had no way of knowing what an ordinary human was supposed to  
feel. No matter which way she steered her thoughts, she found nothing but  
dead ends.   
  
"So what does it all mean?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"I honestly don't know," Ranma replied, moving closer to Akane. "For now,  
our priority is to avoid the hunters."  
  
"For how long?" Akane asked, looking over her shoulder at Ranma. "Are they  
going to be chasing me for the rest of my life?"  
  
"If we can find out why the hunters are trying to kill you, perhaps we can  
put a stop to it," Ranma offered. "But for now, we must concentrate on   
keeping you alive."  
  
"So I guess that means we're on the run again?"  
  
"No," Ranma replied, something of a smile coming to her lips. "Not quite."  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't think I want to do this," Akane called out, a worried expression  
on her face. She wrung her sweaty palms together nervously.  
  
Ranma smiled from her position in the middle of the pond. The water   
beneath her feet was frozen solid in a small circle around her, easily   
supporting her weight. It wobbled slightly with her movements, but she   
effortlessly kept her balance.   
  
"I told you I would teach you to swim," Ranma called back, balancing the  
dull edge of her sword on her shoulder. "Ryujin is a water dragon. You   
must overcome this fear of yours."  
  
"But ...."  
  
"No buts, Akane," Ranma said sternly. "We can spare a day here, in this  
quiet place, to train you. The more ground we can cover before we have to  
leave, the less we have to cover on the move. This will let you get  
acquainted with water, and give you some sparring practice at the same  
time."  
  
"I don't see how learning to swim is going to--"  
  
"You have much to learn about yourself," Ranma interrupted. She smiled at  
the other girl, her face partially obscured by the ever present mist that  
hovered about her body. She lowered the milky blade of Garyoutensei from  
her shoulder and gestured for Akane to come toward her. "Now, attack me."  
  
"How?" Akane asked, exasperated. "I can't swim!"  
  
"Don't worry about that. Just come toward me."  
  
Akane sighed, and with a frustrated shake of the head drew Shoryoutensei   
from its scabbard. She raised the blade, admiring its liquid surface. She  
had forgotten what a beautiful weapon it was. The blade rippled slightly,   
as if in response to her silent praise.  
  
"Trust me, Akane."  
  
She glanced toward Ranma, then to the pool of water. The water looked very  
cold, and very deep. Letting out a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and  
took a step forward.  
  
The icy cold bite of the water engulfing her leg did not come. She held   
her eyes closed, waiting for it to arrive, but it did not. Instead, all  
she could feel was the cool breeze blowing past her, and a slight, yielding  
warmth beneath her foot. Slowly, gingerly, she opened her eyes.  
  
Ranma smiled at her, looking amused, her sword once more slung over her   
shoulder. Akane pondered for just a moment that it was the first time she  
had ever seen Ranma looking truly amused. That moment passed, and with it  
that idle thought, quickly replaced by a loud, insistent question - what   
the hell is going on?  
  
She slowly forced her eyes to look downwards, commanding herself to ignore  
the screaming instinct that told her not to look down, to look away, and   
step back onto solid ground. When her gaze reached her foot, her eyes shot  
wide open in shock.  
  
Where her foot touched the water it pressed back against her, more dense  
than the water surrounding it, seemingly able to support her weight. She  
wiggled her foot slightly, and was suddenly reminded of a water bed she had  
jumped up and down upon as a child when her father took her shopping many  
years ago. She swallowed nervously, watching the water shift to support   
her with every movement of her foot.  
  
"The other foot too."  
  
She glanced up at Ranma, her mouth hanging slightly open, and slowly   
nodded. Almost without realising it, her second foot joined the first upon  
the surface of the pond. She wobbled back and forth, swinging her arms in  
small circles as she teetered off-balance; slowly, as the wobbling of her   
body stopped, so did the movement in her arms.  
  
Her gaze stayed firmly upon her feet, held in place by an intense fear   
that as soon as she looked away, the water would swallow her whole. Her   
knees shook slightly as the blood drained from her head, her face turning  
pasty white.  
  
"What the ...?"  
  
"Akane," Ranma called, stepping over toward her. "Akane, look at me."  
  
The water's surface froze beneath Ranma's feet with each step she took, a  
small patch of ice appearing moments before her skin made contact. She   
stepped nimbly toward the Tendo girl, the trail of ice she left behind  
dissolving just as quickly as it had formed.  
  
Akane dared a quick glance up at Ranma and, after she was satisfied the  
water wasn't about to collapse beneath her, turned her head toward the   
other girl, a flabbergasted look upon her face.  
  
"What the hell did you do?" she demanded, her pale white skin shaking.  
  
"I didn't do anything," Ranma replied. She drew near and lowered herself,  
squatting nearby. "You did that."  
  
"I ..." Akane stuttered, staring with disbelief at the redheaded girl   
before her for a moment before looking down once more. "I did?"  
  
Ranma nodded, and gestured down towards the water. "Touch it."  
  
"You didn't want to fall into the pond," Ranma continued, as Akane reached  
toward the surface, lowering herself to one knee. "And so the water held  
you."  
  
Akane slowly lowered her palm toward the surface of the water, watching it  
shimmer in the sunlight, liquid glass, seeming somehow drawn upwards toward  
her hand as it came close.  
  
"And now you want to touch it, to reach out and understand it," Ranma   
observed, watching the slow descent of her companion's hand. The water   
pushed upwards, a watery imprint the size and shape of Akane's hand raising  
ever so slightly from the surface to greet Akane's skin. "And so the water  
rises to greet you."  
  
"How ...." Akane stammered, holding her hand gently against its watery   
cradle. She wriggled her fingers up and down, eyes watching in wonder as  
the water curled itself around her fingers, intertwining itself with her in  
a warm embrace. "How is this possible?"  
  
"It is all because of you," Ranma said with a smile. "Water is the very  
heart of your domain. Life needs water, life -is- water; you are the   
bearer of that water."  
  
"I don't ... I don't understand," Akane whispered, watching the swirling   
patterns dance through the water, surrounding her hand. Warmth, a   
refreshing and soothing warmth, radiated from the surface, filling Akane  
with a sense of energy, of wellbeing. "How can I do something like this?"  
  
"Just as death is my domain, life is yours. I burn and purge the dead, you  
craft and create the living. It is your duty, the duty you have been   
performing since you were born, even without knowing it."  
  
"This is too much, too fast," Akane said, her voice rising in a panic as   
the liquid grasped at her hand. She jumped, letting out a gasp as its   
grip tightened. The more her panic grew, the tighter the hold became.  
  
"You don't need to understand," Ranma replied, rising slowly to her feet.  
"You'll remember in time. I'm just helping you take the first step.   
Now come on, let's--"  
  
"Stop!" Akane yelled, yanking her hand free as she jumped to her feet. She  
fixed Ranma with a wild-eyed stare, and held up her hand. "Stop pushing!   
This is too much, I need ... I need time to think ...."  
  
"We don't have time," Ranma replied, returning Akane's stare with an intent  
glare. "We must push on."  
  
"I said stop!" Akane cried, turning and storming back toward the cabin. "I  
don't want any of this!"  
  
"You don't have any choice!" Ranma bellowed in retaliation, charging   
forward onto solid ground. "You can't change who you are. There is no   
other Ryujin!"  
  
"I don't care," Akane simmered, stopping in her tracks. "Since I met you,  
I've left my home and everyone I knew. I've had people chasing me, people  
trying to kill me, and someone trying to tell me I'm a dragon. I don't   
want any part of it!"   
  
"Akane," Ranma said with a sigh, drawing closer behind Akane's back.  
  
"I just want to go home," Akane said, her voice suddenly soft, breaking   
with emotion as she turned towards the cabin once more. "Please."  
  
"We can't change who we are, no matter how much we may want to," Ranma said  
quietly, a twinge of sadness in her voice. "I know it's hard, Akane. I   
know it's new, and it's strange. It's also the truth, and hiding from it  
won't change it."  
  
"I just want to be me," Akane begged, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I  
don't want to be Ryujin. I can't be a dragon."  
  
"You are the only dragons left," came a new voice, a hoarse whisper.  
  
Akane looked up, tears in her eyes, to see Happosai standing before her, a  
narrow cane supporting his tiny frame. His face, although old and haggard,  
carried a seriousness that could not be ignored. She sniffed, wiping a   
stray tear from her cheek.  
  
"She is not ready to know this," Ranma protested. "Be quiet, Tatsujin."  
  
"No, I will not," Happosai replied, a stern look in his eyes. "Akane, the  
Elder Dragons are all but extinct. They were betrayed and destroyed a   
thousand years ago by the greed of men. Ryujin and Ryukyu are the only   
living remains of the Kingdom of Dragons. If you die, the race of dragons  
dies with you."  
  
"What?" Akane spluttered, reddened eyes widening.  
  
"Long ago there were many dragons, dragons who lived in harmony with   
mankind, acting as their guardians, their gods. Mankind grew greedy for   
the power of the dragons, however, and turned against those who protected  
them from themselves."  
  
"Tatsujin, stop this."  
  
"The dragons were hunted, burned, and destroyed," Happosai continued, his  
voice growing louder. "Every single one was found and killed. But the  
hunters were not as thorough as they had thought. Centuries earlier, two  
dragons were banished to the earthly realm, cast down from dragonhood to  
the world below. They survived the purging and remained invisible. Those  
two dragons were Ryukyu, the Lord of Death, and Ryujin, the Lady of Life."  
  
Akane turned and looked over her shoulder at Ranma; the redheaded girl had  
her eyes closed, her head cast down. Akane stared, watching the anger wash  
over Ranma's face as Happosai spoke.  
  
"But they could not remain invisible forever. The hunters learned of them,  
and have been hunting both dragons ever since. There are groups - armies -  
dedicated to hunting you down. You -are- Ryujin, Akane, and you are the   
last hope of the Elder Dragons."  
  
"I said stop," Ranma growled, her voice shaking.  
  
"No more secrets, Ryukyu," Happosai growled in return. "She has a right to  
know."  
  
"Kayoko knew!" Ranma exploded, lunging at Happosai. She grabbed the old   
man and threw his frame up against the hard wooden wall. "Kayoko knew   
everything, and look what happened to her!"  
  
"Kayoko made her own choices," Happosai choked, the wind knocked out of him  
by the impact. "Let Akane make hers. It's wrong to leave her in the   
dark."  
  
"How dare you question my methods," Ranma bellowed, her face red with   
anger.  
  
"Look where your methods have got you!" Happosai spat. "Nearly a thousand  
years, and what do you have to show for it?"  
  
"Damn you, Tatsujin," Ranma seethed, her hands shaking as she held him.  
  
"Is he telling the truth, Ranma?"  
  
"Akane?" Happosai asked, looking over Ranma's shoulders at Akane, who had  
walked off into the distance during the argument. Ranma turned and looked  
as well, loosening her grip on the old man.  
  
Akane stood in the centre of the pond, pulling the tip of Shoryoutensei  
slowly back and forth in a gentle arc in front of her feet. She watched  
the ripples echo out across the surface of the pool for a moment, before  
raising her eyes to look at Ranma.  
  
Ranma stared for a moment, her eyes softening. She sighed and nodded,   
lowering Happosai to the ground. She gave him a glare, then turned away   
from him to address Akane. "He's telling the truth."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Akane asked, her voice low. The swinging slowed  
to a stop, the tip of Shoryoutensei holding its place against the water's  
surface. The ripples continued for a time, each one weaker than the last,  
until eventually, the pond was once more still. "This isn't just about me.  
This is about a whole -race-. Gods ...."  
  
"I ..." Ranma began, trying and failing to hold steadfast under the watch  
of Akane's wounded eyes. She slumped her shoulders and looked away,   
speaking in little more than a whisper. "I was trying to protect you."  
  
"Protect me from the truth?" Akane asked, her eyes firmly fixed upon Ranma.  
"Did you protect my mother as well?"  
  
"I didn't tell her," Ranma replied, the strength drained from her voice.   
"How could I tell her?"  
  
"She would have helped you if you had," Akane spoke quietly, her voice   
neutral, emotionless. She looked up, fixing her eyes upon Ranma. "She   
would have gone with you."  
  
Ranma recoiled at Akane's words, the implicit accusation they carried. She  
averted her eyes from Akane's face, unable to match her ward's gaze as the  
heat of humiliation flushed her cheeks.   
  
"I gave everything I had to protect your mother."  
  
"If you'd given her a chance to give as well, she might have survived,"   
Akane continued, turning away so Ranma would not see the warm tears that   
stung her cheeks. "I won't die like she did. I ... don't want to die  
without knowing who I am, Ranma. If that means staying with you,   
well ...."  
  
Ranma looked up, a surprised expression crossing her face. Happosai, too,   
looked surprised at Akane's words.  
  
"Does that mean ...?"  
  
"If you're right, and I am a dragon, then there's not a lot I can do about   
that," Akane observed, bowing her head. "My mother tried to hide from it,  
and I'm not going to repeat her mistakes. Is there anything I can do to  
stop these hunters?"  
  
"Let me teach you, let me prepare you. You can fight them alongside me."  
  
"You lied to me, Ranma, and I'm never going to forget that," Akane spoke  
quietly, raising her eyes to fix them firmly upon Ranma. "But I'm willing  
to do whatever it takes to avenge my mother. If that means continuing this  
journey, and believing what you tell me, then that is what I'll do."  
  
Ranma rose, slowly, to her feet. A look of apprehension flashed across   
her eyes, a tentative step forward followed. "Then you'll stay?"  
  
"I'll stay," Akane said softly, nodding her head. She turned to face   
Ranma, holding up a hand to stop the redheaded girl from taking another   
step. "On the condition that you don't keep things from me anymore. If   
you can't trust me with the truth, I can't trust you with my life."  
  
"Okay," Ranma answered, nodding her head. She fixed Akane with a stare, a   
fiery determination igniting behind her eyes. "I want to teach you, to  
make you strong. I know that's what you want too."  
  
"Then let's spar," Akane said, slowly raising Shoryoutensei.   
  
* * *  
  
"Water is your ally," Ranma explained, standing a short distance from   
Akane, the tip of Garyoutensei almost touching the tip of Akane's sword.   
"Command the water and it will obey. Think fast, adjust and adapt. Be   
like the water; flow around the obstacles in your path. Stay relaxed,   
don't be rigid, and above all, pay attention."  
  
"I know," Akane replied, an intent look dominating her face. "You don't   
need to lecture me any more. I already know how to fight."  
  
"Not like this, you don't," Ranma observed, rocking back and forth ever so  
slightly on her perch of ice. "You don't know anything yet."  
  
"You enjoy this, don't you," Akane commented, peering across the   
juxtaposition of two swords to the redhead's eyes.  
  
"Enjoy what?" Ranma asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Being the teacher," Akane replied. "Being in control. Thinking you know  
everything and I know nothing."  
  
"Perhaps you're right," Ranma admitted with a small smile. It felt good to  
be back in familiar territory, away from the shaky subject of Akane's   
mother. "I do have eight hundred years of experience to speak from, you   
know."  
  
"Don't underestimate me," Akane said, matching Ranma's smile with a   
determined smile of her own. She had much to prove, and she was prepared   
to do so. "I might just surprise you."  
  
"You're welcome to try," Ranma suggested.   
  
Akane said nothing, merely nodding her head in silent acknowledgement.  
  
Happosai coughed, distracting the two girls, who both fixed him with   
annoyed glares. The old man smiled, glancing back and forth between the  
two girls.  
  
"First, some rules," he said firmly. "This is a one-on-one fight,   
restricted to the pond. If one of you leave the pond, if one of you fall   
in, the fight is over. If one of you call surrender, the fight is over.   
Besides that, anything goes. Good luck."  
  
"Anything goes," agreed Akane. A flash of determination passed behind her  
eyes as she lowered herself into a fighting stance, bringing Shoryoutensei  
forward to touch the tip of Garyoutensei. A small flash of light filled   
the air, a sizzling noise and small trail of steam marking the point of   
contact. "Ready?"  
  
"Ready when you are. Happosai, start the fight, then leave us alone. I   
don't want there to be any distractions."  
  
"Very well," said Happosai, with a nod. "Begin!"  
  
* * *  
  
The pair circled each other for a time, Akane's steps growing ever more   
confident as time after time the water did not yield to her weight.   
Movements that began somewhat hesitant and stilted quickly grew more fluid,  
relaxed, and confident.  
  
Ranma smiled as she watched Akane move across the face of the water, the  
liquid shimmering like silk beneath her feet. It was astounding, how fast  
Akane learned. She nodded her head slightly, and Akane nodded in return;   
the time for delays was over.  
  
Akane moved first, lunging towards Ranma, the blade of Shoryoutensei   
gliding in a smooth, wide arc toward its target. Ranma flicked her blade   
up past her shoulders to block the strike at an arm's length, and   
retaliated with a low, sweeping swing across Akane's legs, which would   
force the Tendo girl to jump.  
  
Akane did not jump, however; she twisted away from the blade and rolled   
over it, raising the water beneath her feet slightly to propel her through   
the air. She landed cleanly and rolled to a kneeling position, sword held  
aloft across her face in a guarding position.  
  
"Not bad," Ranma commented. "You're improvising. Good."  
  
Akane flashed a smile, but did not speak; instead she launched herself   
forward, driving her sword in a strong stabbing motion. Ranma reacted  
quickly, pulling herself aside and spinning with Akane's motion. Raising  
one arm, she drew it back sharply, catching her opponent on the back of the  
head as she flew past.  
  
Akane flailed, her trajectory thrown off by the impact - she landed   
roughly, forced to roll once again to avoid landing face-first. She rolled  
too far, however, and skidded to a stop a short distance from the edge of   
the pond.  
  
Glancing behind herself, she let out a sigh of relief. Ranma was smiling  
at her when she looked forward once more, but the redhead said nothing.   
Akane raised herself to her feet, the lesson learned. No more uncontrolled  
charges, no more wild attacks. Ranma had made her point without saying a   
word.  
  
Stepping away from the edge, she lowered herself into a defensive position  
and waited, observing the redhead's every movement with caution. Ranma   
remained still, standing in a loose stance with her sword balanced across   
both shoulders. She tilted her head slightly, inviting Akane to attack.  
  
Akane smiled and shook her head, tightening her grip on Shoryoutensei, but  
otherwise not moving. A silent moment passed, the muted ripples of past   
motion dancing across the water. The pair were statues, unmoving, locked  
in a stare that seemed to go on for an age.  
  
Eventually, Ranma straightened her head and nodded her approval, seemingly  
pleased that Akane was willing to wait. A moment later, she was already  
halfway toward her student, her sword held aloft and ready to strike.  
  
The girl was but a red flash that darted across Akane's vision; she   
instinctively swept her sword upwards, flicking aside a sharp strike aimed  
at her throat. Another came from a different angle, again barely   
deflected, followed by another, and another, each varying in approach and  
intensity, leaving Akane barely able to keep up.  
  
Ranma whipped her sword low, the tip arcing through the surface of the   
water as it passed by Akane's feet. It sizzled on contact, sending a   
cascade of tiny droplets flying through the air as a rush of steam rose.   
  
Akane's eyes widened as she watched the droplets tumble through the air in  
perfect parabolic arcs, each slowing as it neared the peak of its   
trajectory, seemingly suspended in midair. She was entranced by the tiny,  
translucent balls of water, her eyes flitting back and forth between them  
as the sunlight coruscated colourfully off their forms.  
  
She glanced up at Ranma who was still swinging her sword, her movements so  
slow as to be barely discernable. Akane tried to straighten herself but   
found she could not, her movements restricted as if she were being held.  
As she became vaguely aware that her sword had lowered to touch the pond   
surface, a weighty feeling of apprehension sank into her stomach.  
  
What the hell is happening?  
  
By now Ranma had raised her sword once more, a determined look upon her   
face. Akane looked into those large blue eyes, seeing the sunlit droplets  
reflected in them; she found herself marvelling at the beauty of the sight,  
her mouth turning upwards in a smile as she watched the effortless glide of  
the water through Ranma's eyes.It was enchanting, beautiful in its   
elegance, a luminescent pattern of droplets that twinkled like the stars  
themselves.  
  
A hot flash of danger surged through her, driving her thoughts back to the  
match, and the proximity of Garyoutensei to her face. She glanced down at  
her sword and commanded herself to raise it; her hand lazily lofted the   
weapon, slowly, but still much faster than Ranma. It came into position at  
just the right moment, intersecting the milky blade of her opponent in a   
perfect X.   
  
Her training and instinct called out to her, telling her to make a counter  
strike across Ranma's vulnerable back, to take down the opponent with one  
blow. She listened and obeyed, beginning the downward motion - only to   
cease it as a new voice entered her mind, a light, sing-song voice that   
seemed to hum rather than speak. It was joined by another, and another,   
and a dozen others, each tiny voice adding to a chorus that reverberated   
back and forth through the myriad droplets of water.  
  
The first emotion she felt was curiosity, followed by surprise as her free  
hand - seemingly of its own volition - surged forward; her fingers   
stretched themselves out, her fist flattening out as her palm drove toward   
Ranma's back.   
  
The impact of her hand upon the small of Ranma's back felt almost sensual -  
a feather light touch that drifted across Ranma's back, warmth radiating   
from the other girl's body into her fingers - but an instant later, Ranma   
was sliding across the surface of the pond, leaving behind a trail of blue  
ice in her wake.   
  
Dozens of tiny splashes danced across the surface of the water as the   
droplets suddenly accelerated, falling like rain at Akane's feet.  
  
The Tendo girl blinked, looking at the unmoving black mass sprawled out on  
the ice before her. What had just happened?  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma grunted as she shoved the blade of Garyoutensei down into the block   
of ice that entrapped most of her left arm. The effect was immediate, as  
the ice cracked and started to sizzle, spurts of water vapour escaping from  
the many fissures. Akane stepped back and watched carefully as the ice   
gave way, a deep snapping sound followed by a loud hiss as Ranma wrenched  
her arm free.  
  
The redheaded girl shook the frozen hand back and forth a couple of times  
and slowly rose to her feet, a grimace crossing her face as she wriggled   
the fingers back and forth.   
  
"You surprised me," she admitted. "I haven't seen that sort of speed in   
a long time. Here I was, thinking you fought with nothing but brute   
strength. Seems I was wrong."  
  
"I'm sorry," Akane offered, her voice turning upwards in a confused tone.  
She wasn't sure if she should even be apologising, but something told her   
it was the thing to do. "I don't know how that happened. I didn't mean to  
beat you ...."  
  
"Of course you did," Ranma replied, flashing a savage smirk. "You wouldn't  
have fought otherwise. Don't worry, I'm not angry. I'm just surprised. I   
wasn't expecting such an improvement so quickly - you really are a ...   
strange creature."  
  
Akane said nothing, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to say. On one  
hand, Ranma's comments were patronising in the extreme, but on the other,   
she felt guilty for hitting Ranma quite as hard as she apparently had. The  
strange thing was, despite the uncertainty she felt, a strong feeling of   
enjoyment filled her - a sense of achievement.   
  
The anger she had felt burning inside her only a few minutes before had  
completely dissolved. When she sparred with Ranma, she felt as if she were  
on a completely new level, covering ground that she had never before   
explored, ground that she had not even imagined before. It was   
exhilarating in a way, and she found herself wanting to spar again.   
  
A reminiscent thought flitted through her mind, a brief recollection of a   
similar feeling when she had very first met Ranma. The girl had seemed   
full of promise, a mysterious opponent that seemed to present a genuine   
challenge. She had not known then just how right she had been in her   
initial assessment.   
  
"Everything seemed to slow down," Akane explained, watching Ranma stretch  
her arm. "I could see exactly where you were going to attack."  
  
"Nothing was slowing down," Ranma replied with a shake of her head. "You  
were thinking and perceiving more quickly. I was moving quite fast, but  
you moved faster still."  
  
"How?" Akane asked, glancing down at the sword in her hand. A frown   
crossed her face as she tightened her fingers on its handle.  
  
"It's not something I can explain that easily. You'll learn as time goes   
on," Ranma observed. She lowered her hand, turning her attention once more  
to Akane's face. She smiled knowingly, "It just means that I won't go so  
easy on you this round."  
  
"This is really weird," Akane said with a sigh.  
  
"It took me a while to come to terms with it," Ranma offered. "If it makes  
you feel better, you've achieved in two days what took me nearly five   
years."  
  
"How?" Akane asked. "How is that possible?"  
  
"I don't know," Ranma admitted. "But, the faster you learn, the better our  
situation becomes. So, right now, this particular gift horse is going to   
keep its mouth closed."  
  
"Gift horse?" Akane asked, a look of confusion on her face. What did   
horses have to do with anything?  
  
"Never mind," Ranma replied, shaking her head. She ran her right hand up  
and down her left arm, clenching and unclenching her fist. She shook her   
arm a little, sending small ice flakes flying. "It's just an expression."  
  
"You can't control it, can you?" Akane asked, watching Ranma tend to her   
arm. She glanced down at the gaping hole in the midst of the pond, the  
ice slowly melting away as she watched. "The water, I mean."  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"You touch it and it turns to ice. It's as though it's reacting to you,   
rather than listening to you."  
  
"Very perceptive," admitted Ranma. "You're right. I don't have any   
control over it. Water is your domain, not mine. It's the cloak that  
freezes the water, not me."  
  
"The cloak?"  
  
"That's right. You made it for me a long time ago."  
  
"Waterskin," Akane said with a nod, remembering Happosai's words. She   
reached out and gingerly pressed her hand to the fabric of the cloak.   
It did not feel cold as she remembered; it radiated a pleasant heat that  
encouraged her hand to linger. "It's warm."  
  
Ranma said nothing, watching Akane run her hand up and down the cloak. The  
movement stopped after a while and Ranma turned her eyes up to Akane,   
whose face carried a curious expression.  
  
"How does it freeze water if it's warm?"  
  
"It's not warm."  
  
Akane blinked, the warmth in her hand telling her that what Ranma said was  
ridiculous; however, as Ranma exhaled, the tell-tale puff of frozen mist   
rose from her mouth as it always did. She pulled her hand slowly   
backwards, her eyes widening as realisation dawned. "It's not warm ...."  
  
"... you are cold," Ranma finished.   
  
Akane peered down at herself. She didn't feel cold, in fact she felt a   
pleasant warmth that tingled inside her, lapping at her like the gentle   
heat of a campfire. It was strange, she had been so used to feeling cold,  
but the transition to feeling warm had gone largely unnoticed.  
  
"It seems your body is remembering faster than your mind," Ranma observed.  
  
"Remembering what?"  
  
"Remembering how to be a dragon," Ranma replied, sheathing her sword.   
"Perhaps it's a good thing. I haven't fully recovered yet, so the stronger  
you are, the better off we'll be."  
  
"Wait, wait," Akane interrupted. "Recovered from what? Two swords through  
the stomach?"  
  
"No, no. Those were nothing," Ranma replied with a chuckle, waving her   
hand dismissively. She paused for a moment, the mirth leaving her face as  
she considered her words. "After ... after what happened with your mother,  
I sealed my strength away. I promised myself that I wouldn't interfere   
with the life of her daughter the way I interfered with hers."  
  
"You didn't do a very good job," Akane replied, an incredulous tone   
tainting her voice. She arched an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.  
  
"Well, no," Ranma admitted, a small smile passing over her lips for just a  
moment. "I don't suppose I did. I told myself to stay away from you, to  
avoid drawing attention to you. After a while, though, I could feel you,  
and I knew where you were. If I knew, they knew. I had to do something  
about it."  
  
"So you dragged me away from home, and through this forest," Akane said,   
gesturing at the trees that encircled them.  
  
"You have to understand," Ranma explained, glancing up at Akane's face for  
a moment, then looking away. "When I saw you - saw your face - I knew you  
were different. I knew you had a chance. So I took you, and unsealed my  
own strength - I thought it would return straight away, but it hasn't.  
I've been ... having a hard time fighting. It seems I've gotten used to  
having that strength to fight with."  
  
"I didn't want to say anything," Akane commented, scratching the back of   
her head, "but you did seem to be losing a lot of fights."  
  
"My father wouldn't have put it so diplomatically," Ranma observed. "I  
will protect you to the best of my abilities, Akane, but until I recover   
... the stronger you are, the better."  
  
"Why are you telling me all of this?" Akane asked, watching the redheaded   
girl carefully. "You're not exactly inspiring a lot of confidence."  
  
"You said no more secrets, Akane," Ranma replied with a shrug. "I have no  
pride left to wound. If you know about my weakness, you can use that   
knowledge to survive, and that's all that matters."  
  
"You shouldn't say that," Akane admonished, glancing to the ground. Her   
thoughts turned to her father, to the crushing depression he had gone  
through for many years after her mother had died. "We all need to have  
pride."  
  
"Pride can be dangerous," Ranma said in reply, "don't forget that, Akane.  
Now, I believe the score is one-nil to you."  
  
"You sound like my father," Akane observed, twirling her sword slowly.  
"Always turning everything into a lesson or a competition."  
  
"No," Ranma replied, giving a knowing smile as she unsheathed her sword  
again. Stepping back to the centre of the pond, she raised the blade.  
"Your father sounds like me."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane gingerly lowered herself to the floor, gratefully taking a glass of   
water from Happosai as the old man offered it to her. She took a deep gulp  
of the liquid, letting it soothe her throat as he sat down next to her.  
  
"I hurt all over," Akane complained, stretching out her back. "It feels   
like we've been fighting for hours."  
  
"You have been," Happosai commented, gesturing toward a nearby window. The  
fading remnants of the evening's sun streamed through the opening,   
colouring the wooden floor a deep orange. "Nearly eight hours, as a matter  
of fact. I do hope she isn't pushing you too hard, Akane, my dear."  
  
"Don't worry about me," Akane replied with a smile, taking another sip.   
She stretched out one arm and rolled her shoulder, feeling rather more   
energetic with every sip she took. "I'm not as weak as you think I am."  
  
"I don't think you're weak," Happosai countered, the wrinkled edges of his  
mouth curling upwards in amusement. "It's just that Ranma has never pushed   
anyone this quickly before."  
  
"She must know what she's doing," Akane supposed, glancing over to   
Happosai, carefully appraising his facial expression.  
  
"I certainly hope she does," Happosai noted thoughtfully. "She believes in  
you, Akane. I just hope her enthusiasm isn't blinding her better   
judgement. May I offer a piece of advice?"  
  
"Sure," Akane replied with a shrug. She had long since become accustomed   
to people offering her advice. Why not one more?  
  
"Don't ... rely on Ranma alone. She will do anything to protect you, but   
she doesn't always make the right decisions. Don't let her tell you what  
to do without thinking about it for yourself."  
  
"It doesn't sound like you have much confidence in her either," Akane said  
softly, a thoughtful look on her face. Was she really supposed to trust   
her life to Ranma, a person Happosai didn't trust? A person who didn't   
trust herself?  
  
"No, you're wrong," Happosai replied with a shake of his head. "I believe   
in Ranma. She will not rest, or sleep, or leave your side until you are  
safe. Her entire life revolves utterly and completely around you."  
  
Akane glanced away, peering through the window at Ranma, who kept a   
motionless vigil in the twilight outside. She let out a sigh, utterly at a  
loss. What was she to make of this girl? Of this situation?   
  
"You owe it to her to be worthy of such devotion, Akane," Happosai added in  
a quiet voice. "You owe it to her to survive. If that means going against  
her judgement sometimes, so be it. You know your own limits better than   
she does. Just trust your instincts, is all that I'm saying. Blindly   
following Ranma did not work for any of your predecessors."  
  
Akane sank into silence, gazing down into the glass of water, watching the  
ripples bounce back and forth within its boundaries. She stared at her own  
reflection, wondering just how many of her predecessors had failed before  
her, where they went wrong. How could she hope to live up to this task if  
it had killed all of her ancestors?  
  
How could she complete a task that she didn't even understand?  
  
She knew Happosai was right, and trusting her own judgement was in many   
ways a strong part of her nature, but Ranma had been sending out very   
confusing signals from the moment she had walked into Akane's life. On one  
hand she implored Akane to trust her with her life, but on the other she  
admitted she was too weak to really protect her. Happosai said, in   
slightly different words, the same thing.  
  
How could she trust Ranma? How could she believe her?  
  
"What am I supposed to do? Where do I go from here?"  
  
"Survive," Happosai replied with a weary smile. "Live long enough to find  
out who your enemies are and what they want. They hunt you for a reason,   
if you can find out what that reason is, perhaps you can stop them."  
  
"I don't even know where to start," Akane countered, watching the   
water's surface as it rippled and curled, contorting her reflection. She  
tried to shake off the feeling that she had been thrown into the deep end  
of the pool, but it would not leave her. "Why didn't my father ever tell  
me?"  
  
"We all make our own choices, and he made his," Happosai answered. "Would  
you have believed him if he had told you?"  
  
"Probably not," Akane replied. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "It  
sounds pretty ridiculous."  
  
"I wish I had easy answers for you, Akane, but there aren't any."  
  
"I don't want easy answers, I just--"  
  
Akane's words were cut short; a loud crash resonated through the air,   
making her jump. She looked to Happosai who stared wide-eyed back at her,  
and slowly turned her head toward the source of the noise.  
  
Through the window, she could see a familiar-looking figure lunging toward  
Ranma; a flash of sunlight, reflected from the blade of a sword, danced   
across her vision for an instant. She leapt to her feet without even   
realising she had moved.  
  
"Ukyo," she mouthed silently, and reached for her sword, glancing back   
momentarily to Happosai. "Stay here."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma snarled and flung her sword upwards at Ukyo's blade, blocking the   
frenzied swing easily. Dropping low, she riposted, the tip of her blade  
narrowly missing her opponent as the other girl dodged to one side.  
  
How the hell did she sneak up on me?  
  
Ukyo stepped back and lowered herself into a loose stance, the urgency of  
her initial attack vanishing with the element of surprise. Her face   
carried a vicious determination, eyes gleaming in the evening sun as she  
stared intently at Ranma.  
  
"You thought you could fool me by playing dead?" she spat, her words   
acidic. She huffed with contempt, narrowing her eyes.  
  
"Leave now or I'll kill you," Ranma said, a hard edge to her voice. "I  
don't have time to deal with you interfering."  
  
"I'll leave when you're dead," Ukyo countered, slashing out with a   
lighting-fast strike toward Ranma's face, which was effortlessly blocked  
and countered with an opposing swing that was just as easily parried.  
  
"You still don't get it, do you?" Ranma asked, incredulous. "How can you  
not understand by now?"  
  
"I understand perfectly," Ukyo countered, accompanied by another   
experimental slash in Ranma's direction. "I understand that when I kill   
you, my mother can finally rest. I _will_ have my revenge."  
  
"I've had enough of fighting with you," Ranma growled, edging in a circle   
around her opponent. "You can't hope to win, so just leave, and you won't  
die."  
  
"Thank you for your concern," Ukyo replied, her voice dripping with   
sarcasm. She launched her sword forward once more, pushing hard against   
Ranma's blade as it moved to block. "I'll remember it when I'm digging   
your grave."  
  
"Ranma!"  
  
Akane's voice rang like thunder through Ranma's mind, instantly commanding  
her attention. She whipped her head around to stare as the Tendo girl   
charged toward them, her sword drawn. One glance at Akane's face told   
Ranma exactly what the girl intended to do; a cold panic sank into Ranma's  
stomach, rooting her to the spot.  
  
"Akane ... no!"  
  
Ranma realised her mistake the moment she made it. In her mind, she   
pictured how Ukyo would have reacted to her opponent looking away in the  
middle of a fight - if she had been in Ukyo's position, she would have done  
the same. If your enemy presents an opening, you take full advantage. It  
was a basic principle, one she had learned centuries ago, and yet, it had  
slipped from her mind so easily.  
  
She pictured the scene, imagined Ukyo raising her leg, cocked at the knee,   
flattening the foot out and readying the release of tension that would   
begin the kick. She wondered, for only an instant, if she could manage to  
twist herself aside to dodge the kick, or deflect it with her arm -  
anything.   
  
Her body refused, insisting that she stay motionless, gaze locked upon  
Akane's face as the Tendo girl charged wild-eyed into the fray, bright blue  
eyes burning with righteous intent and overwhelming naivety. Shoryoutensei  
gleamed in the evening sun, its futile swing defeated before it had even  
begun.   
  
She doesn't understand, she doesn't have a chance.   
  
The crunching impact of Ukyo's heel upon her ribcage came as no surprise,   
accompanied as it was by the dull thud and cracking sound of her bones  
breaking. She felt the ground leave her feet, the eerie sensation of   
floating midair as the force of the kick launched her backwards. The pain  
was easily ignored, overlooked as Ranma concentrated on one thing and one  
thing only - an inescapable, undeniable fact:  
  
Akane's still running.  
  
Her mind sped through the possibilities, the various moves she could make  
to best protect her ward. Her ribs were broken on the right side, but if  
she rolled that way, she would be able to gain a position between Akane and  
Ukyo, keeping the two safely apart. That, she decided, would be the best   
option.  
  
One thought tugged at her mind, a niggling doubt that refused to be   
ignored; and as Ranma listened, the quiet doubt was amplified into a  
screaming realisation.  
  
The pond. Gods, I'm heading toward the water.  
  
She twisted, trying to alter her path even as the icy cold water engulfed   
her; the frigid chill spread down her body as she slowly sank. She  
struggled, thrashing; however, her efforts were for naught, and she could   
do nothing but watch helplessly as the liquid hardened into solid ice   
around her.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane swung her sword with mighty force, charging full speed at Ukyo. The  
strike was easily parried, but her momentum carried her into the other   
girl, sending them both stumbling.  
  
"You again," Ukyo growled, catching herself on a nearby tree. She pushed   
herself off from the trunk, and lowered her sword. "Stay out of this!"  
  
"I won't," Akane countered, recovering her balance and straightening. She  
raised her sword, punctuating her words with small movements of the blade.  
"I won't let you hurt her."  
  
"I have no argument with you," Ukyo said, a sharp, threatening edge to her  
words, "but I will kill you if you try to stop me."  
  
Akane narrowed her eyes, looking her opponent up and down. The girl was   
wiry, but agile; seemingly quite fast, and strong to boot. Akane   
swallowed, knowing that she would not defeat Ukyo easily. That was   
certainly not going to stop her from trying.  
  
Ranma had leapt to her defence on two occasions now, with no hesitation,   
with no concern for her own safety. Even if she didn't entirely believe  
Ranma, or fully trust her, she was damned if she was going to let this girl  
hurt her.  
  
Ukyo had escaped from their last encounter; this time, she would not be so  
lucky. Akane slowly circled around Ukyo, stopping as she came into   
position between her opponent and the pond. She dropped into a defensive  
position, making her intent clear.  
  
"All right, dragonkin," Ukyo said, her voice strangely calm and even. "If  
that's the way you want it - you'll die this day."  
  
Akane was put on the defensive immediately, a series of crisscrossing   
strikes at head height forcing her to dodge and weave, the blade of  
Shoryoutensei seeming suddenly quite inadequate as a shield. She struggled  
for position, trying and failing to advance as she was held back by the  
flurry of attacks.   
  
She's fast, she thought, planting a foot firmly into the soft earth behind  
her to anchor herself in place. Fending off blow after blow from all   
angles, she struggled to push Ukyo away, to create some space for herself  
to launch a counterattack. Obviously, Ukyo had far more swordfighting   
experience than Akane, and it was tipping the odds in her favour.  
  
A glancing blow ripped past Akane's wrist as the two swords clashed, hot  
pain stinging her arm as a stream of blood spurted out from the wound. It  
burned at her skin, feeling intensely hot against her icy flesh; she   
winced, her sword beginning to wobble with each impact as her weakened hand  
struggled to maintain her grip.  
  
"You fight like her," Ukyo spoke across the gap between them, her voice  
drifting at a leisurely pace amid the lightning-fast motion of two opposing  
swords.  
  
Akane growled in frustration, unable to spare the concentration needed to   
reply; her attention was far too focussed upon the sharpened metal that  
threatened to slash her head open. She was acutely aware of the red-hot  
blood that dribbled down her forearm, only to dribble from her elbow down  
into the fabric of her gi.  
  
Gods, she thought, it feels like I'm bleeding to death.  
  
A vicious swipe toward her stomach almost went unchallenged, forcing Akane   
to twist her wrist painfully to fling Shoryoutensei into its path at the  
last moment. The impact sent shockwaves rumbling down her arm, a shriek  
of agony escaping her as the stabbing pain in her wrist grew worse.  
  
She fell back to one knee, straining to keep up with Ukyo's lightning   
speed, the hail of blows simply too fast for her to cope with. The edge of  
Ukyo's blade grew closer and closer with each strike, the tip leaving   
sharp, narrow cuts along her arms and shoulders as it grazed against her.  
  
"Give up," Ukyo said, dull, impassive eyes staring directly into Akane's.  
"You may be her kin but I don't want to kill you."  
  
Akane shuddered as she looked into the empty, soulless eyes of her   
opponent. They did not shine with anger, or vengeance, or emotion of any  
kind - they simply stared straight at her, serving their purpose and   
nothing else. In that instant, Akane realised that Ukyo did not care about  
this fight, or whether Akane lived or died.  
  
Akane was little more than an obstacle to her, an obstacle to be removed.  
Why, then, was Ukyo toying with her?  
  
Perhaps, Akane realised, her eyes widening, she's not toying with me.  
  
A bead of sweat rolled down Ukyo's forehead and as she exhaled, a large   
puff of frozen mist rose from her mouth - a testament to how hard she was  
breathing.  
  
She's wearing herself out, Akane realised, she's going as fast as she can.  
  
The sweat dripped from Ukyo's forehead, tumbling silently down from her   
skin into the air below, and as Akane watched, it slowed and hung in place,  
glimmering at her with a tiny white light. Silence filled Akane's ears,   
the ringing sound of two swords clashing echoing into silence around her.  
Ukyo stared at her, locked in an instant of time; Akane looked back at her,   
letting out a slow, shaky breath as recognition set in.  
  
It happened again, Akane thought to herself. How did I do that?  
  
She quickly dismissed that line of thought; there were more important   
things to do. Her sword hand still complained loudly, the throbbing pain  
no less intense, the touch of her blood no cooler. Thinking quickly, she   
raised her other hand instead and brought it forward, just as she had in  
her fight with Ranma, flattening the palm out and driving it upwards to  
strike the centre of Ukyo's chest.  
  
The moment her hand made contact, the world sprung back into motion around  
her - Ukyo was flung backwards, a look of utter shock gripping her face as  
her body was launched into the air, only to come crashing down amongst the  
trees that circled the clearing.   
  
Akane instinctively ducked her head slightly and closed her eyes as Ukyo's  
sword flew from her grasp, the impact of its blade upon Shoryoutensei  
sending it spinning past Akane's neck - a gasp of wind running over her skin  
as it whirled past, only to bury itself in the ice of the pond.  
  
She stood still for a few moments, paralysed by the shuddering realisation  
of just how close the sword had come to her neck. A shiver ran down her   
spine as the sensation of wind running over her neck refused to leave her  
mind.   
  
The aching sting of her wrist quickly brought her back to reality, and as  
she opened her eyes, the sight of a motionless Ukyo bent over the broken  
trunks of three trees greeted her. She blinked, failing to comprehend just  
how she had managed to hit the girl that hard.  
  
I barely touched her, she thought to herself, glancing down at the hand in  
question. Her fingers were still soft, delicate, her hand possessed of the  
same feminine form it always had been; yet, it seemed imbued with the   
strength of a demon.  
  
Ukyo's groan distracted her, and Akane quickly stepped over to the limp   
form of her opponent. A gust of wind blew past as Akane looked down into  
the broken clutch of trees, the long, low creak of torn wood shifting in  
the breeze breaking into the silence.  
  
"You win," Ukyo groaned, unable to lift her head or open her eyes. A   
stream of blood trickled slowly from the edge of her mouth, pooling at the  
base of the tree trunk that supported her weight. She coughed, choking on  
the warm, thick liquid. "I've never seen an attack like that."  
  
Akane said nothing, her sword lowering as she listened to the ragged whine  
of Ukyo's breath escaping from within her crushed chest. The brown-haired  
girl managed to open one eye, the eyeball rolling forward to present its  
dilated pupil after a moment. Her face carried the same lack of emotion   
it had during the fight - losing seemed as inconsequential as winning, or  
so it seemed.  
  
"Finish me," Ukyo rasped, her chest rising and falling with short, rapid  
gasps for air. "Let me die with honour."  
  
Akane slowly raised her sword, pointing its tip at Ukyo's neck. She   
swallowed, her mouth dry, her sword hand shaking. The creature before her  
was truly a pitiful sight, a bent and broken girl, her skin growing paler   
by the second as the rusty-hued blood collected in ever larger quantities  
in the soft earth below.  
  
To stare into those pitch-black pupils felt to Akane as though she were  
being sucked into a deep, empty, silent void, the absence of feeling   
washing over her, overwhelming, its intensity staggering her. She shook   
her head, tearing her gaze free, and forced herself to turn away.  
  
She could not kill this girl.  
  
"I ... I won't," she said quietly. "I can't."  
  
"Coward," Ukyo called, her voice grating as air competed with blood for   
passage through her mouth. She raised her arm, screwing her eye shut in   
agony as pain lanced through her body, gritting her teeth as she forced it  
to reach toward a small handle that protruded from a pocket on her thigh.  
  
Akane felt the presence of the small dagger as it hurtled toward her,   
understanding exactly what it was and where it was going. She tossed   
herself to one side, launching herself out of its path, but did not move  
swiftly enough - the blade impacted against her back, piercing her skin   
just below her shoulder.   
  
The agonising pain of the blade skewering her flesh sent her tumbling,   
falling to her hands and knees as the momentum of the attack pulled her   
body off balance. She landed roughly, her still-bleeding wrist's scream of  
pain joining the chorus that echoed within her from her many new wounds.  
She rolled, slumping onto the ground, and did not move.  
  
Ukyo struggled to move, pulling herself upwards slightly against the tree  
trunk with one hand, her movements slow and shaky, her body convulsing with  
every beat of her heart.   
  
A loud crack filled the air, a high-pitched hissing noise following in its  
wake; Ukyo barely had time to glance toward its source before an enormous  
slab of ice slammed into her body.   
  
Ranma stepped out of a gaping hole in the pond - her cloak little more than  
a puddle left behind in the ice - and held aloft her sword, the water on it  
hissing as it turned to steam. A snarl of rage tearing through her lips,   
she leapt toward Ukyo.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma shoved the tip of Garyoutensei down into the icy slab that held Ukyo  
down with brutal force, shattering the block with ease. Smaller fragments  
of ice toppled off Ukyo's body, leaving the semi-conscious girl exposed  
beneath the rapidly-melting ice that remained. Garyoutensei quickly   
disappeared back into its sheath as Ranma bent down toward the girl.  
  
"You snuck up on me and attacked without warning," Ranma seethed, her voice  
shaking with fury as she reached down to grab the front of Ukyo's tunic.   
"That, I didn't mind."  
  
"You waited until I was distracted and hit me with an attack I couldn't  
block," she continued, yanking Ukyo from the ground and holding her limp   
form up with both hands. "That didn't bother me."  
  
"You buried me in a solid block of ice and left me to rot," she said, her   
voice much more quiet, calm in its rage. Swinging Ukyo like a rag doll,  
she slammed her opponent into a nearby tree and let go, watching as the  
brown-haired girl slumped to her knees against the rough bark of the tree.  
"That didn't matter."  
  
"Then you attacked my student, my Akane, while I couldn't protect her,"  
Ranma finished, her voice barely a whisper. One hand ripped Garyoutensei  
from its sheath and held it aloft as the other grabbed Ukyo's hair and  
tilted her head back. "For -that-, you will die."  
  
With furious strength, Ranma brought the gleaming blade of Garyoutensei   
down upon Ukyo's neck, closing her eyes as the moment before the impact.   
There was a slight resistance, and a dull thud as the blade buried itself   
in the wood of the tree. She held perfectly still for a moment, a smile   
crawling across her face as the stink of burning flesh filled the air.  
  
Releasing her hold on Ukyo's hair, she pulled her sword free from the tree  
trunk. The dull thud of Ukyo's head falling to the earth below resounded  
through the clearing, followed only by silence. It was done.  
  
* * *  
  
"Happosai!"  
  
Ranma tossed the small blade aside, quickly turning her attentions to the  
wound on Akane's back. The Tendo girl moaned slightly, shifting a little,  
but otherwise did not react. With panic tying her stomach in knots, Ranma  
frantically tore open Akane's gi and pulled the top from her body, rolling  
her onto her stomach to tend to the injury.  
  
"Happosai!" she called again, her hands frantically mopping up blood with  
the material of Akane's gi. Where the hell was the old man?  
  
The blood poured out at an alarming rate, staining Akane's skin, despite  
Ranma's best efforts to staunch the flow. No matter how fast she worked,  
it did not seem fast enough. The blood was warm, a contrast to Akane's   
cold skin.  
  
"Ranma," Happosai called from the doorway of the cabin, hobbling along with  
his cane, his movements stiff and slow. "I'm sorry - I fell in the panic -  
I think my ankle is-- what happened to Akane?"  
  
"She's been hit badly," Ranma shouted in reply, her voice wavering with   
panic. "She's bleeding all over the place. I can't heal a wound like this  
- you've got to help!"  
  
"Don't panic, don't panic," Happosai replied, hobbling down into the grass  
and making his way over toward Ranma.   
  
"How the hell can you say that?" Ranma cried, pressing the balled-up   
fabric up against the wound, applying pressure to it. She spared Happosai  
only a momentary glance. "She's dying!"  
  
"She's not dying," Happosai answered, stepping up alongside her. He slowly  
raised his cane and nudged aside a part of the fabric, exposing the bottom  
edge of the wound. "Look."  
  
Ranma looked where Happosai was pointing, and sure enough, the wound was  
beginning to pull itself closed. Slowly, but surely, the wound was   
beginning to disappear. She quickly pressed the fabric down over the   
wound again and looked up to Happosai once more.  
  
"She's already learned to heal herself," Happosai said, pulling the tip of  
his cane away. "She really is quite impressive."  
  
"You're sure it will heal completely?" Ranma asked, bloodied hands holding  
the fabric tightly in place. "I don't want to risk taking her to a  
hospital, but--"  
  
"She'll be fine," Happosai reassured. "Just keep pressure on the wound to  
slow the bleeding until it heals."  
  
"None of the others were like her. She really is ... unique," Ranma said  
quietly, looking down at the deeply stained skin of Akane's back. She ran  
her hand slowly over it, the warmth of the blood feeling strange to her  
fingertips. "I've failed her already, Happosai. I let her get hurt."  
  
"Yes, you have," Happosai replied, his voice stern. "You've placed her in  
harm's way, and this is the result. Don't fail her again."  
  
"I won't," Ranma replied, gently lifting Akane's body with one arm as the  
other kept up the pressure on her back. Slowly, she raised Akane's body  
and pulled the girl's back up against her chest, embracing the girl. "I'll  
keep her safe."  
  
"Be mindful, Ranma," Happosai warned, reaching to gently touch Ranma's   
shoulder. "You're not what you once were. Remember that - don't   
overestimate yourself."  
  
"I know, Happosai," Ranma replied, squeezing Akane gently to her. "I ... I   
know."  
  
"She will be fine," Happosai said, his voice warmer. "Treat it as a   
lesson; learn from your mistake."  
  
"We'll have to leave this place," Ranma said, closing her eyes as she   
held Akane against herself, concentrating on the feel of her companion's  
heartbeat, trying to convince herself that as long as she could hear it,  
everything would be fine.  
  
"Indeed," Happosai replied, his voice already a small distance away. He   
looked into the group of broken trees, curling his lip in disgust at the  
stench that emanated from within. "So, here lies Ukyo Kuonji. Did you  
-have- to kill her?"  
  
"Yes," Ranma replied in a low voice, her hand tightening around the   
reddened fabric. "She brought it on herself."  
  
"Akane won't understand," Happosai said, lowering himself to one knee   
beside Ukyo's head. He winced with pain as his back and ankle both   
complained simultaneously. "She'll be angry. You won't gain her trust by  
killing people."  
  
"It had to be done," Ranma said, lowering her chin to rest on Akane's   
shoulder. She gently rocked back and forth, willing the blood to stop  
flowing. Please, Akane, be okay. You can't die.  
  
"She has such a beautiful face," Happosai observed, sadness in his eyes.   
Gently running his hand across the fringe of her hair, he let out a sigh.  
"It breaks my heart to see a beautiful girl killed."  
  
"She had her chance," Ranma muttered, her irritation growing. Why the hell  
was Happosai more concerned about Ukyo than Akane?  
  
"If she found this place, the others can't be far away," Happosai   
speculated, glancing away from the bloody mess that was her body, still  
slumped against the old tree, covered in the blood-soaked mud that   
surrounded it. "Keep her safe, Ranma. She's your responsibility now."  
  
"I know," Ranma replied. "As soon as this bleeding stops, I'm taking her  
out of here."  
  
"That would be best," Happosai agreed, a tinge of sadness tainting his  
voice. He turned his gaze to the cabin, a mournful look upon his face.  
  
"You know what must be done," Ranma said, holding Akane tight to her. "I'm  
sorry."  
  
"Yes," Happosai replied sadly, with a slight nod of his head. He sighed,   
and glanced to the pond. "It's a shame - I enjoyed living here."  
  
* * *  
  
The sun had long since abandoned the sky, the moon keeping silent vigil   
amidst the stars as a chilly night wind danced through the trees, the   
forest seeming calm and peaceful on this serene night.   
  
The night was not serene, however; the forest was not peaceful. A shaft of  
light whipped across the grass of the clearing, scattering the darkness   
with the speed of its motion. It was joined by another, and another, and  
many others, as a group of black-booted soldiers moved swiftly and silently  
to surround the clearing.  
  
With absolute precision and disciplined efficiency, the soldiers encircled  
the clearing, the bright beams emitted by their flashlights exposing all of  
the forest's secrets, leaving nothing undetected. The perimeter secured,   
the soldiers began to move in.  
  
Their lights quickly passed over the surface of the pond, several moving to  
a large pile of broken wood and rubble that lay nearby. Slowly they moved  
toward it, flashlights flitting back and forth to illuminate the pile.  
  
"Phoenix, this is Alpha," spoke one of the soldiers, holding a hand up to  
his ear, his submachine gun held tightly by his side. "Perimeter secured,  
the clearing has been abandoned. It looks like there was a building here,  
but it has been demolished."  
  
"Spread out and search the surrounding area," he said aloud, glancing to  
the members of his team. As one, the other soldiers turned away and   
stepped into the darkness. One soldier, however, moved into the clearing  
and approached his leader.  
  
"Sir," he said, gesturing with the light attached to his gun, "I found a   
body in the woods."  
  
Alpha team's leader stepped over to the other soldier, raising his gun to  
shine his own light upon the broken cluster of trees. A thoughtful look  
crossed his face, and his hand immediately returned to his ear.  
  
"Alpha reporting," he spoke, keeping his flashlight trained upon Ukyo's  
body. "We have located the secondary objective, but have not acquired the  
primary."  
  
A moment passed; the reply was brief, a few words spoken through the   
soldier's earpiece. He glanced back and forth, scanning the edge of the  
clearing as he listened.  
  
"No containment necessary," Alpha leader replied, "she's dead."  
  
Again, a moment passed and the soldier nodded as his instructions arrived.  
"Sir, yes sir. Bravo team, move in to scour the rubble. Bring the chopper  
down, we have a body to transport."  
  
"We're still taking her?" the other soldier asked, glancing to his leader.  
  
"Clean her up and prep her for transport," the leader replied with a nod of  
the head. "She's going to the lab."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	9. The Revenant

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER NINE  
"The Revenant"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
"... nominal, temperature rising to normal range, vital signs stabilising.  
Everything looks good."  
  
Ukyo let out a quiet groan as muffled voices swept into her mind, washing  
away a blank void that she had not known existed until it was gone. A   
sharp, surging pain coursed through her mind, bringing with it the   
realisation that her body was numb, unmoving. She tried to force her eyes  
open, but to no avail.  
  
"Diagnostics of alpha and beta stages are green," came another voice,  
female, unlike the first. "We have a clean initialisation."  
  
The words left little impression upon her, seeming little more than muffled  
nonsense to her addled mind. Where was she? What was going on?  
  
"Okay, crack the case - let's see how this goes."  
  
"Yes, Sir. Stand by for decompression; breaking the seal in five."  
  
The words faded into silence, leaving only the thrum of machinery, but as  
the seconds passed a quiet hissing noise became apparent. A loud clunk   
shook Ukyo slightly, and the hissing quickly became a loud roar as hot air  
rushed in around her from all sides. Although she could not feel her body,  
she was intensely aware of the heat, panic rising within her as she tried  
to move away from it.  
  
Before she could manage even to flinch, however, the wave of heat was   
subdued. The loud wooshing sound disappeared, leaving behind only the   
quiet hissing. She managed somehow to swallow, and felt her ears pop.  
  
A loud clunk resounded through the room from overhead, leaving Ukyo   
straining to tilt her head backwards toward the source of the noise. Her  
heart pounded powerfully against her chest, the staccato beat filling her  
ears.  
  
"Report," came the first voice, much clearer this time. Ukyo found herself  
able to focus upon the sound, to discern the words that were spoken. The  
voice was deep but gentle, the words spoken wearily but anxiously.  
  
"We have a perfect break," the female answered, her words punctuated by   
intermittent beeping. "Everything went smoothly. She's semi-conscious.  
The interface diagnostic will take a few moments to complete, but   
everything looks good so far."  
  
"Impressive," came the male voice, much louder. Ukyo felt a faint warmth   
upon her face, which she could only assume was the breath of the speaker.   
"You really -do- heal quickly. If only we were all as capable."  
  
A silent moment followed, the warmth of the man's breath upon her cheek   
ensuring she could feel his eyes boring into her, even if she could not   
see them. Who the hell was this person? What was he doing?   
  
Again, she tried to open her eyes, willed her body to move, respond in any  
way, but was met with failure at every turn. If she had been able to cry  
out in frustration, confusion, she would have, but she was unable to do   
anything but lie there, limp and helpless.  
  
A sharp pain jolted through her right side and she felt her body lurch of   
its own accord. The first shock of pain was joined by another, and   
another, and soon it became a sharp, prickling patch of sensation along her  
leg.  
  
"Try to relax," came the man's voice. "This won't take long."  
  
Ukyo wanted to call out in pain, to tell this guy in no uncertain terms   
where he could stick his instructions, but she was powerless to do anything  
but submit to their prodding. She felt her facial muscles tighten,   
twisting her face in a grimace. It was involuntary, but summed up her   
thoughts very accurately indeed.  
  
"Diagnostic complete. It took longer than I thought, but the first batch   
of tests is complete. We can reseal the hatch."  
  
"Good," the man replied, the proximity of his mouth to Ukyo's face sending  
tingles down her spine. Her body shivered reflexively, despite her   
attempts to stop it. At least the pain had stopped.  
  
"Sir, her heart rate's beginning to rise to dangerous levels. We're   
nearing maximum tolerance levels - we need to put her back under."  
  
"I know, I know," the man replied, annoyance in the words. A silent moment   
passed before he spoke again, and with his words Ukyo felt the warmth of   
his hand pressing against hers. "Welcome back, Miss Kuonji. It's an   
honour to meet you at last."  
  
"Okay, close it up," the man instructed, his sigh disappearing into the   
sudden whirr and hiss of hydraulic machinery. There was a solid thunk, and  
then, nothing.  
  
* * *  
  
She had tried, in the beginning, to speak; several attempts were made, but  
her mouth refused to obey, her body steadfastly denying her mind's   
desperate pleas. After a time she abandoned her attempts to speak, and  
instead focused on listening, feeling, and sensing.  
  
Many similar "tests" occurred; to Ukyo it seemed that the moment one test   
ended, the next would begin, but she eventually came to realise that she  
was sleeping - or unconscious - for some amount of time between each one.  
Every time, the voices and sounds were different, the tests were new, the  
temperature was varied. As the tests continued, she noticed that sensation  
was gradually returning to her body.  
  
Sometimes the doors opened and her skin prickled with goosebumps, others,  
she could feel the droplets of sweat dripping agonizingly slowly down her  
face, her hands unable to wipe them away. She was in a constant state of  
disorientation, the ever changing conditions instilling within her a   
perpetual state of panic, of utter confusion.  
  
Her mind was endlessly probing, searching for clues, seeking a pattern, a  
means to escape her confinement, anything. The only constant was one   
particular voice - the male voice from her first "test". Whenever the air  
cleared and the hissing faded into silence, that voice was there, without  
fail.  
  
It was strange, the voice of this stranger somehow gave her comfort, a   
handhold upon reality. When she heard this man speak, she knew that she   
was still in the real world, that she had not gone completely insane, that  
despite the amorphous, bewildering nature of her existence, there was at   
least one constant.  
  
Always there, always calm, always kind; comforting her, assuring her   
everything would be all right, reminding her that it would all be over   
soon. Were it not for that voice she would have assumed she was being   
tortured - but with his presence, she somehow knew that she was not in  
danger.  
  
It was not much, but it was something to cling to. What else could she do?  
  
* * *  
  
It was the fifty-seventh test, by Ukyo's reckoning, when things changed in   
a drastic way. Where there had once been a cacophony of sounds and  
sensations masked by darkness, now, there was light.  
  
It was not an overwhelming light; more of a grey glow at the centre of her  
vision, a luminescent sphere that nevertheless held her rapt attention. It  
may well have been a muted grey, but to Ukyo the effect was just as   
profound as if it were the brilliant light of the sun.  
  
She could see. She could SEE.   
  
During the time she had spent encased in blackness, she had many times  
questioned her sanity, even her very existence. It was hard to convince   
oneself that one is still alive when one's existence is without sight,   
movement, or speech. Now, though, with this thin ray of light, hope  
returned to her. Perhaps there was to be an end to this ordeal after all.  
  
Her excitement grew with each subsequent test - she had taken to thinking   
of them as training exercises, each one pushing her body a little bit   
further - as she forced a little more from her eyes every time. What began  
as a small grey shape slowly expanded, grew in size and luminosity, until   
it dominated her vision and her imagination.  
  
What was the source of this light? Was it some vision from beyond?   
Thoughts of the light saturated her mind, displacing the familiar voice   
that had previously held her concentration. She had found something new to  
cling to, something far more exciting. She knew, if things continued as   
they had been, that eventually she would be able to discern exactly what it  
was she was looking at.  
  
By the seventy-ninth test, with the bright white light shining down upon  
her, she became aware of a new sensation - butterflies in her stomach. The  
test dragged on, and on, seemingly for an eternity. She waited, patiently,  
for the whirr and hiss that would signify the end of the test, and perhaps  
offer the solution to the mystery.  
  
* * *  
  
To a starving man, even the tiniest morsel of dried-up, stale bread tastes  
like the sweetest fruit, filling and satisfying, merely because it is not  
nothing. As test eighty began and Ukyo's eyes finally opened, she felt   
much the same.  
  
The source of light was revealed to her as a surgical lamp, three bright   
lights overhead that bathed her in a sterile white light. It hurt her  
eyes to gaze up at the bright bulbs but she could not stop herself from   
staring at them. They were beautiful, because they were real.  
  
They were the first thing she had seen in -- she didn't even know how long  
it had been. None of that mattered now. All that she cared about was the  
fact that she could, at last, see again. She studied every curve of the  
light fixture, unable to turn her head away, unwilling to close her eyes or  
even blink, lest the gift disappear from whence it had come.  
  
The surrounding area faded away into darkness by comparison, and it was   
several moments before the blurry edges of movement caught the borders of  
her peripheral vision. She was not sure, but it looked like several people  
were moving back and forth around her. Why, she was not sure - she had   
been so absorbed in the light that she had not been paying any attention to  
the words being spoken around her.  
  
A silhouette moved across her line of sight, a slightly odd shape that,   
as her eyes adjusted, resolved into the shape of a female face, with   
strands of blonde hair dangling down from it. The contraction of Ukyo's  
pupils must have been noticed by the woman, as a smile spread across her  
face.   
  
"Can you see me?"  
  
Ukyo blinked, involuntarily, and forced her head to nod, ever so slightly,  
but enough for the woman to notice. A look of elation passed across the  
blonde woman's face.   
  
"Looks like we've got a positive result," the woman called, glancing away  
for a moment. "Pupil dilation and contraction, apparent facial   
recognition. Everything looks perfect."  
  
"Excellent," came the familiar voice, the voice Ukyo had put aside and   
almost forgotten in her excitement. Evidently, he had not forgotten her.   
He spoke from nearby, his voice quiet. "Ukyo, we're ready to move to the  
next phase. Get some rest, and we'll see you soon."  
  
* * *  
  
This time, the sleep was different. Longer. Perhaps, Ukyo reasoned, that  
was because she had consciousness to compare it to. Now that she had seen  
the light, she could perceive the absence of it.  
  
When she awoke, the differences continued. The hissing, whirring, and  
clicking was the same as always - produced, it turned out, by a heavy metal  
door that swung open, depressurising the chamber that held her. It felt  
strange to finally see that which she had imagined so many times before, to  
compare the reality to her imagination.   
  
She was no longer lying down, she realised, but standing straight upwards,  
held back against what was once the table she lay upon by restraints around  
her waist, neck, ankles and wrists. If she had the strength she would have  
protested her bonds, but in her current condition they were all that kept  
her from collapsing to the floor in a heap.  
  
She peered into the cloud of steam that filled the air as the door opened,  
her eyes moving back and forth, hoping to discern shapes amongst the mist.  
Her head sagged to one side, however, making it difficult to see what  
was going on before her.  
  
"Welcome, Ukyo Kuonji."  
  
Ukyo twitched at the mention of her name, by a new voice, one she had never  
heard before. She tried to turn her head, forcing her eyes to turn as far  
as they would allow, to catch a glimpse of the person addressing her.  
  
"I'm sure you have many questions," the man continued. Ukyo finally   
managed to raise her head enough to bring him into view; he was a tall man,  
blonde, muscular, seemingly enormous in his military uniform. Ukyo   
narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the details of his face.   
  
"My staff will be here to answer them for you during your stay," the man  
said, gesturing with one arm and then the other to the multitude of people,  
clothed in identical white laboratory coats, to either side of him. He   
smiled, the leathery skin of his face creasing as he did. She noticed a  
multitude of scars on the man's face, a slight tremor in his posture, and   
wondered exactly who this man was. If she had been capable of speech, she   
would have voiced her questions, but she was limited to silent observation.  
  
"My name is Hunter - Colonel Jonathan Hunter, military attache to the  
Phoenix Industrial Laboratory for Advanced Research, or PILAR. The   
'Pillar' is your new home, for the time being."  
  
Ukyo listened to the Colonel's words, the sharp sense of hearing she had   
developed over the course of her lifetime working to her favour as she  
tried to gauge his tone and inflection. He spoke gruffly, abruptly; he was  
a man who was used to being listened to without interruption. He barely  
looked away from her, and certainly didn't look to the scientists to either  
side of himself - clearly he considered them unworthy of his attention, at  
least relative to her.  
  
A low, constant humming filled the air; it sounded like some sort of   
engine, Ukyo reasoned. Perhaps an electrical generator? But what kind of  
laboratory would need to generate its own power?  
  
An isolated lab, perhaps, one cut off from the main power grid. Why   
isolate a lab? To keep people from finding out what goes on inside, she   
thought to herself. That thought sparked an intense pang of anxiety within  
her. Just what kind of 'advanced research' needed such isolation?  
  
A glance around the room brought with it questions rather than answers -  
Pillar? What kind of place was this Pillar? A secret research laboratory,  
evidently, the name as well as the abundance of computers and scientific  
equipment making that fact obvious.   
  
The walls and floors gleamed, their metallic surfaces absolutely spotless.  
There were no windows that she could see, and only one exit - a large  
archway, sealed with a metallic door. It looked easily large enough to   
accommodate a vehicle - although she was not sure why a laboratory would   
need one. Perhaps for the transportation of materials? If there was  
vehicular activity in and out of the lab, there was a potential escape  
route. These people had, apparently, not harmed her - yet, at least - but  
she did not want to be caught without a plan for escape if the situation  
called for it.   
  
The Colonel's words continued, by and large ignored by Ukyo as she tried to  
take in as much detail as she could. There were ventilation grates in the  
ceiling, but that was high, far out of her reach. Not viable as an escape  
route, so, quickly dismissed. That left only the door.  
  
Her scan completed, she turned her attention back to the Colonel. His  
speech was not finished - Ukyo listened, wondering for a moment if she had  
missed anything important, but the puffing of his chest and the repeated  
mentions of 'proud tradition' left her with the impression that the speech  
was more for his benefit than hers.  
  
Her attention quickly wandered away from the Colonel; her newfound powers of  
sight were still far too new and novel to waste staring at one person. She  
inspected the men and women standing to either side of the Colonel - they  
all stood stiffly at attention, although judging by the slight shuffling of   
feet and slumping of shoulders, this was not a regular activity for them.  
  
They did not look as she had imagined they might - not one of them   
resembled the stereotypical 'mad scientist' - rather, they all seemed to  
be respectable people, clean-shaven men and tidy women. They looked more   
like doctors than anything else.  
  
No, she noticed, not all. There were younger faces amongst the line, and  
one in particular caught her attention.  
  
He stood shorter than the rest, obviously younger than the others, who all  
appeared to be middle-aged or older. There were many wrinkles upon the   
faces of the scientists, but his face was youthful - he looked little more  
than a teenager. His eyes were striking, brown irises staring intently at  
her. The man - the boy - smiled at her, his eyes smiling as well from   
beneath a mop of black hair.  
  
That was him, she realised. That was the voice that had kept her company  
in the darkness. She stared at his smile and felt that same sense of   
relief fill her - somehow, she knew he would not hurt her. His was a kind  
smile, one that put her at ease. She wished, for a moment, that she was  
able to smile back.  
  
"You will have a short orientation period with the staff of this facility,  
then I will return to brief you on the current situation," the Colonel   
spoke after a long pause, the shift from long silence to speech snapping  
Ukyo out of her reverie. "Welcome aboard."  
  
She turned to look at the Colonel as he gave her a nod and turned away,   
walking briskly away along the line of scientists, who all stood perfectly  
still as he passed. Watching him leave, she narrowed her eyes, one of his  
words hanging in her ears.  
  
Aboard?  
  
* * *  
  
The scientists drifted toward her as the door sealed behind the Colonel,  
each as uncertain as the next, looking at her with what seemed to be   
extreme trepidation.  
  
It's not like I can hurt them, Ukyo thought to herself. What are they so  
afraid of?  
  
The boy, however, did not seem afraid. He moved toward her, slowly,   
hobbling along on a cane - he must have had it held behind himself earlier,  
Ukyo realised - slowly but surely making his way toward her. One by one   
the other scientists noticed and backed off, each shuffling off to a   
computer console or other darkened recess of the lab.  
  
Apparently, the boy wanted some time alone with her, and didn't need to   
ask the others.  
  
She watched his step carefully; he leaned heavily on the cane, his right  
leg appearing stiff and reluctant to move. He did not walk gingerly upon  
it, however, which suggested to her that it was not causing him pain. She  
wondered for a moment how he sustained whatever injury it was that  
prevented him from walking, but her ponderance was pushed aside as the boy  
spoke.  
  
"Hello, Ukyo."  
  
She looked at him and tried to speak, but her body refused to obey, and so  
her response was little more than a mumbled utterance of acknowledgement.  
The boy glanced to either side of himself, then reached over and pressed  
a panel off to one side of Ukyo, outside of her field of view. The console  
beeped, and before she knew it, a transparent cube of glass slid down from  
the ceiling to encase the area around her and the boy.  
  
"A protective measure," the boy explained, noticing her bewildered look.   
"Designed to protect us from you if something were to go wrong, but I knew  
that would never be necessary. So, we might as well use it to get a little   
privacy."  
  
A tingle ran down her spine as she became suddenly aware of the boy's   
proximity, and her body's lack of response. If he were to touch her, there  
was nothing she could do to stop him. She was completely at his mercy.  
  
He seemed to understand her concern, however, and quickly stepped back, an  
apologetic look upon his face. "Here, things will be easier if you can  
talk."  
  
He quickly pressed another button upon the same console, and with another   
beep, Ukyo felt sensation return to her face. It was strange, a tingly   
sensation that trickled down her face almost, but not quite, painfully.  
She worked her jaw, trying to regain control over her muscles.  
  
The boy watched her closely, seemingly quite interested in her efforts. He  
bore an expression of curiosity, his eyes intently focused upon her   
attempts to speak.  
  
"Who are you? Where am I?" Ukyo managed at length, forming the words as  
best she could. She had a thousand other questions to ask, most of them  
containing accusations of kidnapping, but she wanted to gather as much   
information about her surroundings as she could before she started   
irritating her captors. "Why am I being held here?"  
  
"You're in the Pillar. Weren't you listening?"  
  
"Not ... not really," Ukyo replied, forcing her head upwards to match the  
boy's inquisitive gaze. "I was distracted."  
  
"Well, don't worry about it," the boy replied with a smile. "The Colonel   
does ramble on a bit. You're doing pretty well to stay awake this long, all  
things considered. Hell, he nearly put me to sleep."  
  
"You didn't answer my question."  
  
"Sorry, it's just that I'm ... quite excited to see you," the boy   
explained, glancing away for a moment. "You're in the Pillar's tertiary  
laboratory, which takes up a little under a sixth of the space aboard this  
vessel. The other two labs are larger than this one, but all of the   
exciting stuff goes on right here."  
  
"Vessel?" Ukyo asked. At least now she knew she what 'aboard' meant.  
  
"Yes," the boy said with a nod. "You're aboard the Leviathan Spring, a   
top-secret research vessel submerged about ten kilometres off the west   
coast of Japan."  
  
Submerged?   
  
"We're in a submarine?" Ukyo asked, incredulous. It was hard to believe,  
but it did explain the need for the lab to generate its own power. Her   
mind raced through the situation, reasoning that if the lab needed   
power-generating facilities, it was staying underwater too long to rely on   
onboard power reserves.   
  
That made the prospect of escape difficult; a submarine would not be an   
easy prison to leave. However, a submarine would still need to return to  
the surface, even if it was an infrequent occurrence - unless it was capable  
of generating its own oxygen, food, water and power on a self-sustaining  
basis, and she found that extremely unlikely. Possible, but unlikely.  
  
"That's right. Kind of bizarre, huh?" he commented, looking around the   
lab. "It took me a while to get used to it, but now I call it home."  
  
"And just who are you?" Ukyo asked, eyeing him carefully. He seemed   
harmless enough, the twinge of excitement in his voice suggesting that he  
was enjoying the moment. She wondered just why he was being so friendly.  
  
"The name's Hibiki," the boy replied, returning his attention to her. He  
patted his chest as he spoke. "Ryoga Hibiki. I've been assigned as your  
tech."  
  
"You already seem to know who I am. What's a tech?"  
  
"Technical support. It's a long story," Ryoga replied. A moment of  
silence passed before he noticed her worried expression and added, "Don't   
worry, I'll explain everything later.  
  
"For now," he continued, the smile returning to his face, "just try to put  
up with all of the red tape the Colonel has lined up for you. Once that's  
over and done with, we can get to the fun stuff."  
  
"Fun stuff?" Ukyo asked, in as even a tone as she could manage. She didn't  
want to give away her true feelings, but she thought it would have been  
obvious that fun was the -last- thing on her mind. Clearly, this Ryoga  
enjoyed his work.  
  
"Wait and see," Ryoga replied, his voice tilted in an enigmatic curl.   
Leaning in toward her, he whispered conspiratorially, "I think you're going  
to like it."  
  
* * *  
  
The next few hours revealed to Ukyo exactly what Ryoga had meant by "red   
tape". With her face once again numbed she was introduced to the entire  
staff of the laboratory - as well as a seemingly endless procession of  
anonymous military personnel - one after the other, as they moved past her.  
  
Introduced was the incorrect word for it, she thought, four hours into her  
tour. A more appropriate word would have been "exhibited". With her body  
limp and motionless, sealed behind a wall of glass, her only means of  
expression was her eyes. She was held up for display, a silent attraction  
for a parade of tourists eager to catch a glimpse of her.  
  
The question of why they were so interested in her occupied her mind for   
most of the time. She wasn't moving, or doing anything remotely   
interesting; she was fully clothed, and presumably looked like little more  
than a living rag doll. She truly failed to understand the attraction.  
  
One group in particular caught her attention, however; the Colonel brought  
with him a group of military officials, lined them up, and gave them what  
appeared to be a presentation. She was no expert on the military hierarchy  
but could tell from the Colonel's body language that they were, without a   
doubt, his superiors. He moved stiffly, and she noticed a thin sheen of   
sweat forming on his forehead - clearly, these men made him nervous.  
  
He stood in front of her, his back to her, for an extended period. She   
could see his jaw moving as he talked, but could not hear him through the  
glass of the door that was sealed closed in front of her. After a while,  
he raised one arm and used it to point at various parts of her body,   
punctuating each gesture with a short monologue.  
  
She occupied herself for a time with attempting to fathom just what the   
Colonel was saying, but quickly dismissed her thoughts as mere conjecture.   
She was no lipreading expert, and she couldn't make out any words from the  
mumbled sound that made it through the glass.  
  
The assembled officers looked her up and down at great length, some nodding  
every now and then as the Colonel delivered his speech. It seemed that she   
was passing whatever test she was being put through; the men looked   
pleased, and as the speech drew to a close, they applauded.  
  
The question of what would have happened to her if they had not been   
satisfied briefly crossed her mind as she watched the men leave, but she  
quickly decided it was best not to dwell upon it.  
  
* * *  
  
"I imagine you're feeling like a fish out of water," the Colonel said, his  
voice echoing through the vastness of the Pillar's tertiary lab. The room  
was darkened and unmanned, leaving Ukyo held under the bright spotlight of   
the surgical lamp, the Colonel marauding in the shadows. His voice was  
sharp, carrying with it a predatory edge that left Ukyo extremely nervous.  
  
"That's one way of putting it," she replied. Sensation had returned to her  
face shortly after the last of the staff left earlier, and she had regained  
almost full control over her muscles in the time since then. It had not  
helped her any; she was still restrained quite securely.  
  
"This must all be very confusing. I apologise; that's the nature of these  
things. We have all tried to make your stay as comfortable as possible   
under the circumstances."  
  
"What circumstances?"  
  
"You were in quite a mess when we found you. It's taken us nearly six   
months to repair the damage."  
  
"Six -months-?" Ukyo asked, boggling. How could it have been six months?  
A more important question followed: six months since what? She could   
remember nothing. "What kind of damage?"  
  
"See for yourself," the Colonel replied. At his word, the wall on the far  
side of the lab burst into light, drowning the entire lab in its glow as an  
image was projected upon it at a massive scale.  
  
Ukyo's eyes widened in shock, the blood draining from her face, a nauseous  
feeling gathering in her stomach as she stared in horror at the picture.   
It was of herself, or her body at least, propped up against a tree. Bright  
red blood covered her skin and clothes, but it was the centre of the image  
that burned itself into her eyes.  
  
Her head was missing; in its place was nothing more than a bloody stump.  
  
She forced her eyes shut, fighting back the convulsions in her stomach that  
threatened to overwhelm her. Gods, she thought, what a sickening sight.  
  
"What the hell happened to me?" she demanded, when at last she was able to  
speak. "What did you do?"  
  
"Your body possesses an extraordinary regenerative capability. All we had  
to do was assist it along the way; your body regrew nearly everything on   
its own. All of the nerve connections, blood vessels, bone, on its own.   
It really was quite extraordinary to watch--"  
  
"I mean, how the HELL did I end up like that?!"   
  
"Oh, I see," the Colonel said, his tone casual. "We didn't cut off your  
head, if that's what you're wondering. That was done by another - we   
helped you to repair yourself."  
  
"You don't ... recover from having your head cut off!" Ukyo cried, not  
daring to open her eyes. "I was dead!"  
  
"Evidently, -you- recovered just fine. If I understood just how you   
managed to do so, I would be a wealthy man. As it is, the DNA samples we  
collected from you are going to fuel medical research for the next thirty  
years, if not more."  
  
"This isn't natural," Ukyo murmured, a tremble crawling down her spine.   
Such an image, such a suggestion were enough to drive her to despair. How  
could one return from the dead? One could not. The immediate assumption  
she made was that the photo had been manipulated, and that was the  
assumption she decided to work with - it was the only conclusion she could  
draw that did not make her want to scream.  
  
"We're getting caught up in the details," the Colonel commented with a   
dismissive wave of his hand. "There are people here who can explain the   
technicalities to whatever level of detail you desire. That's not why I'm  
here - I'm here to offer a proposal to you."  
  
"Turn off that damned picture," Ukyo insisted, opening her eyes again only  
after the Colonel complied. She breathed deeply, trying to wash away the  
image that hung in her mind, as vibrant and bright as the actual picture  
itself. Whoever doctored that photo did an amazing job.  
  
"I believe we have a lot to offer each other, Ukyo. I propose we work as a  
team."  
  
"I don't need your help. What do I have to gain from you?" she asked.   
Tugging at her restraints, she added, "Other than my freedom?"  
  
"That's a good question. Before I can answer it, I have to give you a   
little history lesson," the Colonel replied. He stepped into the circle of  
light and looked up at Ukyo. "The Phoenix organisation is very old.   
Hundreds of years old. It's divided up into several subdivisions -   
military, research and development, exploration and archaeology, and so on.  
It's a large and diverse organisation, but from its moment of creation it  
has always been centred on one goal and one goal alone."  
  
"What goal?"  
  
"Phoenix was established to protect humanity from an extremely dangerous  
threat. One you should be quite familiar with, in fact: dragonkin."  
  
"Dragonkin?" Ukyo asked. She mouthed the word again, and again; it felt  
strangely familiar as it rolled across her tongue, bringing with it a vague  
uncomfortable sensation that she couldn't quite place. She knew that word.  
  
"Our organisation does not get involved in wars, international conflicts,  
or politics. We operate at a level above such concerns. Our charter   
states that we are to respond to the specific threat dragons pose to the  
future of humanity. It is a threat we have been unable to contain - all of  
our efforts have been met with failure.  
  
"It is no secret within the ranks that attempting to take down a dragon   
means almost certain death. In fact, of all those who have fought the   
dragons, only one - one! - has ever survived. Can you imagine how the   
troops feel? Morale is on the floor, and our numbers grow thinner every  
day. We are on the verge of breaking down; that cannot be allowed to  
happen."  
  
"That's a terrible shame, but what does any of this have to do with me?"  
  
"Our organisation has been observing you for a very long time. You have   
dedicated your entire life to the completion of a single task, and yet for  
all your efforts you've been met with nothing but failure. That said,   
even in failure you show an astounding potential."  
  
Ukyo sank into silence, her attention captured by the Colonel's words.   
She felt a strange sense of familiarity, a profound truth in his  
observation, even though she could remember nothing before the laboratory.  
  
"You may not recall it, but your heart knows of what I speak. Think -   
remember."  
  
She moved to speak but hesitated, a faint feeling of recognition sparking  
within her mind. Somehow, she knew what he was speaking about, but   
could not quite place it. Closing her eyes, she forced her mind to delve  
into the depths of her memory, seeking out any moment to latch on to,  
anything to grasp amongst the emptiness.  
  
She found what she was after, not in a moment, image, sound or smell, but  
in a colour. Red. She remembered red. It was as she tried to fathom the  
meaning of the colour that the floodgates of memory burst open.  
  
Her body jolting, she cried out in surprise as a flash of memory surged   
into her mind, a blinding, screaming moment of revelation; her mind was  
filled with flashes of red, the hot touch of a blade, the twisting agony of  
her own death.  
  
She saw it all. The memories of a lifetime burst forward into her mind,  
all of them focused around a single, ever-present individual. Ranma.   
Ranma Saotome. The source of all her misery. The root of all her rage and   
hate.   
  
"Rrrrrrranma," she growled, her mind welling with a rage so intense that  
it pushed all other emotions aside. So consuming, so integral, now that  
she could recall it she failed to comprehend how she could ever have   
forgotten it.  
  
"I can help you kill her," the Colonel whispered, his face almost close   
enough to touch hers. "She is the key to it all. If she dies the dragons  
die with her. It is what you want, isn't it?"  
  
"Tell me your proposal," Ukyo muttered. Opening her eyes, she looked   
expectantly to the Colonel.  
  
"You are not strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to destroy Ranma.  
You can try, but you will fail. However, if you agree to join Alpha Team,  
become part of the organisation, I can give you a gift that will help you  
realise your full potential. You can succeed where all others have   
failed."  
  
"What gift?"  
  
The Colonel said nothing; he casually reached down and began unbuttoning   
the jacket of his uniform, his eyes locked upon hers as the garment slowly  
opened. Reaching within, he pulled out a pistol.  
  
"This pistol fires twelve millimetre ammunition. It's enough to blow a   
person's head apart. It makes a mess, but it's very effective. It has  
served me well over the course of my career. It might seem strange, but I  
even named it. I call it Jericho."  
  
"That's your gift?" Ukyo replied in disbelief, a sneer on her face.  
  
"No, it's not," the Colonel replied. A calm look upon his face, he raised  
the pistol, aimed it at Ukyo's forehead, and squeezed the trigger.  
  
* * *  
  
"Is it done?"  
  
Hunter glanced over his shoulder as he buttoned up his jacket and nodded  
once, the speed of his walk not decreasing. His footsteps were joined by  
another set, moving in time with his own.  
  
"I must stress to you the importance of this mission. We can't afford any  
mistakes."  
  
"I understand," Hunter replied. "I am well aware of this mission's   
importance, Sir."  
  
"Good. I'm trusting you with this one, Jon. Don't damage that trust.   
This mission is being watched -very- closely."  
  
"You have my word. Everything will proceed as planned."  
  
"I take it we shall be getting underway shortly?"  
  
"The Captain knows what he's supposed to be doing. Once we offload the  
Council, it won't take us long to reach Okinawa."  
  
"Excellent. I expect to be kept informed."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
* * *  
  
"I can't believe he did that!"  
  
"He had his reasons."  
  
"Reasons or not, we spent years researching this! Years of our life, and  
he just--"  
  
"Yoiko, he had his reasons. Leave it at that."  
  
"But, Ryoga, what if--"  
  
"The what ifs don't matter. What's done is done."  
  
"Would someone mind telling me what the HELL just happened?" Ukyo demanded,  
her voice drowning out the arguing pair. They glanced at each other for a  
moment, then turned in tandem to face her.  
  
One of the fluorescent lights overhead ticked on and off erratically, its  
continual buzz echoing through the room. The immense lab was empty save   
for the three of them, but even so, when Ryoga spoke, he did so quietly.  
Ukyo strained to listen to his voice, wondering if such a muted voice had  
developed out of habit in a boy used to speaking of secret things.  
  
"It's known as the Seraph Initiative," Ryoga replied, moving toward her.   
His face looked sullen, his eyes weary. Reaching up, he brushed his hair  
from his forehead; it hung aside for a moment before flopping back into  
place. He did not bother repeating the attempt. "It was begun many years  
ago, and its goal was to develop a more effective form of protective armour  
for troops in the field."  
  
"Armour has always concentrated upon shielding the body externally," Yoiko  
interjected. She was a small girl, with blonde streaks dyed into her black  
hair, that she continually fidgeted with as she spoke excitedly. She   
seemed enthusiastic to go into detail. "Nobody ever thought of bolstering  
the body's natural defences rather than just surrounding them in armour.   
Nobody except us, that is."  
  
Ukyo glanced at the girl, taking in the important details in a few short  
seconds. She was young, seemingly younger than Ryoga, and judging by the  
way she stood closely to him they were either related, or romantically  
attached. She had an impish face, her childish features belying her   
intelligence. Her eyes shone with youthful curiosity as Ukyo looked at  
them; Ukyo wondered for a moment what kind of military would recruit mere  
children. This girl looked no older than sixteen, perhaps seventeen.  
  
"We found that the body is perfectly capable of defending itself," Ryoga  
continued, firing an irritated glare at Yoiko as he wrested control of the  
conversation away from her, much to her apparent annoyance. "All that it  
needs is the right stimulation. The end result of the research was the  
Seraph Wing."  
  
"Seraph Wing?" Ukyo asked, her confusion growing by the second. All she  
wanted was a simple explanation.  
  
"It's a three-tiered application," Yoiko explained, jumping into the   
conversation before Ryoga could respond. "The Wing expands the body, the  
mind, and the interface between those two and the world around them."  
  
Ukyo looked back and forth between the pair, a bewildered look on her face.  
The duo looked back at her expectantly, waiting on her response. The   
looks on their faces when she finally spoke suggested that she did not give  
the response they were hoping for.  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Essentially," began Ryoga, "the Wing allows--"  
  
"We nailed the armour part easy," Yoiko interrupted, her excitement getting  
the better of her. "That wasn't the hard part. The Wing amplifies the  
energy your body creates to power the biokinetic plating that surrounds  
you."  
  
"It's a kind of shield," Ryoga offered, anticipating Ukyo's next question.  
Stepping over to a nearby table, he grasped the flattened bullet fired by  
the Colonel. "When the bullet hit the biokinetic plate, it was instantly  
stopped in its tracks."  
  
"End result, one squashed bullet and not a scratch on you," Yoiko observed  
as Ryoga held up the bullet, an enormous grin on her face. "I can't   
believe it worked so well!"  
  
"I would have preferred a less dramatic demonstration," Ryoga said as he  
returned the bullet to the table. "But the Colonel made his point well   
enough."  
  
"So this is what he meant by a gift," Ukyo supposed.  
  
"We aren't finished yet," Yoiko said. She smiled, apparently enjoying  
herself immensely.  
  
"What do you mean?" Ukyo asked, feeling a little bewildered. The anger she  
had felt toward the Colonel had dissipated, replaced by an intense   
curiosity. She could see how this Wing could be immensely useful in   
hunting down Ranma.  
  
"The Wing creates a feedback loop," Ryoga said, at Yoiko's prompting. "At  
first we thought it was going to be a problem, but we realised that we   
could actually use it to our advantage."  
  
"-I- realised it," Yoiko insisted. "The excess energy can be reapplied to  
the body, straight back into the central nervous system. It can be used   
anywhere, any nerve in your body, even the brainstem and the brain itself."  
  
"And what does -that- mean?" Ukyo asked, her voice betraying the growing  
irritation she felt at being so utterly eclipsed by the conversation.  
  
"Essentially, the muscles in your body, as well as your brain, can use that  
excess energy. Muscles can apply more power, move more quickly. In the  
case of the brain, it can increase neural capacity and activity."  
  
"It makes you faster, stronger, and smarter," Ryoga clarified. "Not   
forever, your body's energy reserves will run out after a while, and you'll  
need to recharge them. But while it lasts, it can make a real difference."  
  
"This all sounds like one hell of a gift," Ukyo observed dryly. "What's  
the catch?"  
  
"No catch. We needed your regenerative ability," Ryoga said with a shrug.  
"The installation is a rather ... intrusive procedure. Your body was   
capable of surviving it - you're the only one able to support the Wing."  
  
"So, you needed a guinea pig for your new toy," Ukyo said, eyeing Ryoga   
carefully. If what he said was true, this placed her in a very strong   
bargaining position. What good was a weapon if there was no way to use it?  
"You've already ... installed it, then?"  
  
"Sure. Half of it, anyway," Yoiko said with a shrug. "We'll install the  
external amplifiers after the first batch of tests."  
  
"The Colonel is very anxious to see the Wing in action," Ryoga added. "I  
know you're probably angry at not being consulted about this ...."  
  
"Not at all," Ukyo replied, a smile crossing her face. The military loves  
using its gadgets, she reasoned, so they would be very keen to appease her.  
She could use that to her advantage. Suddenly, her situation seemed much  
more positive than it had only a few minutes before.  
  
"Great! The hardware's pretty much useless without the wetware," Yoiko  
commented cheerily.  
  
"You are such a geek," Ryoga said, giving Yoiko an exasperated glare.   
"Look, go wait outside for a while, would you? I want to talk to her  
alone."  
  
"But, I--"  
  
"Now, Yoiko," Ryoga insisted. He stared at her, his tone melting her   
resistance. Her shoulders slumping, Yoiko turned and trudged toward the   
exit.  
  
"She gets excited too easily," Ryoga observed, watching her leave. He   
turned back to Ukyo and gave a wan smile. "I'm sorry about that."  
  
"Don't apologise for your sister," Ukyo said. "She's just a child."  
  
"How did you know she was my sister?"  
  
"The way she looks at you, you have to be siblings or lovers. The way she  
argues with you, you can only be siblings."  
  
"Heh. Seems the Wing is improving your powers of observation already."  
  
* * *  
  
"So which am I, a prisoner, or a lab rat?" Ukyo asked, fixing Ryoga with a  
piercing glare. She was quite finished with idle conversation, it was time  
to get some answers. Ryoga returned her stare and let out a sigh.   
Clearly, he understood what she wanted to discuss.  
  
"Both, I guess," he replied, surprising her with his honesty. "You have to  
understand, the Pillar is only a small part of this boat. The Leviathan  
Spring is a military vessel, and it's the military that's in charge. If  
they want to keep you here, there isn't much you or I can do."  
  
"I see," Ukyo replied, thoughtfully.  
  
"That said, I really think you should give it a chance. Nearly everyone on  
this vessel has lost friends, family, or someone they cared about to the   
dragon. She must be stopped, and I know that is exactly what you want to  
do. What do you have to lose?"  
  
"Nothing," Ukyo replied. "But that's not the question here."  
  
"What is, then?"  
  
"The question is, what do you have to gain? It's a little strange that I  
would be given this thing with no strings attached."  
  
"If you were in our situation, you'd understand," Ryoga replied. He looked  
thoughtful for a moment, then spoke again. "I used to serve in Bravo Team.  
I was a recon officer, but I was just a rookie; I didn't know what the hell  
I was doing. We were all so determined to find Ranma that we didn't even  
stop to think about what would happen when we did."  
  
"You were a soldier?" Ukyo asked, surprised. She glanced down at Ryoga's  
cane, a gesture that Ryoga did not miss.  
  
"That's right. I had barely got my feet wet. Three years of training, a  
few training missions, but it was my first real deployment. We were sent   
to a remote forest - hell, I didn't even know exactly where it was. All I  
knew was we were there to find Ranma. We found her, all right. Thirteen  
men, men I'd spent three years training with, all died right in front of   
me. I saw ... I saw her ..."  
  
"Saw her what?" Ukyo asked, watching closely as Ryoga fumbled for words.   
  
"She ripped them apart," Ryoga spoke softly, staring at the floor. "She  
went through them as if they weren't even there. Those guys were the   
toughest bastards I'd ever met in my life and she threw them around like   
rag dolls. I was so far away, all I could do was listen to the screaming.  
By the time I got there, it was too late.   
  
"She barely had to move. She just tapped me and - bang - I was on the   
ground. I didn't know it then, but she'd pretty much destroyed my leg.   
Bone, muscle, nerves, everything, it was just shattered. She could have  
killed me, but she didn't. I think she just wanted me to suffer."  
  
"So that's why you ..." Ukyo said, glancing down at the cane once more.  
  
"Use this?" Ryoga asked, briefly holding up his cane. He nodded. "Yeah.  
The medics managed to save the leg, but it's pretty much useless now. I  
was going to leave, just go home, but Colonel Hunter offered me a chance to  
work in the Pillar. I thought maybe I could get Ranma back for what she  
did, even if only by making the weapon that kills her."  
  
"Seraph Wing."  
  
"Exactly," he replied, nodding. "You know what the funny thing is? I'm  
the only person who ever encountered Ranma and lived to talk about it.   
When word got around, people started talking about me. There's the guy  
that survived it, they'd say. Sure, he got his ass kicked and now he can  
barely walk, but he -survived-. The people here treat me like some kind of  
hero, but all I did was watch my friends die."  
  
"That was you ...." Ukyo realised, memories of her conversation with the   
Colonel returning to her. He had mentioned a sole survivor, but this boy?  
He was the only one able to survive? "How many has she killed?"  
  
"Hundreds ... thousands. There's a huge wall at our headquarters, engraved  
with the name of every single soldier who has died at her hands. It's  
enormous; it hurts just to look at it and imagine all of those people dying  
the same way my friends did. Can you imagine what it's like? The only  
victory we can hope for is survival. What kind of hope is that?"  
  
"Gods ..." Ukyo muttered, staring down at the boy before her. So   
completely had her mother's death occupied her mind, she had not even   
stopped to think about the many others that Ranma had killed.  
  
"We need a real hero," Ryoga implored, opening his eyes at last. He fixed  
Ukyo with his stare, the desperation obvious in his face. "If we don't   
stop her, she'll kill us all. I don't want my sister to die - you're the  
only one who can save her, Ukyo."  
  
"You really care about her, don't you," Ukyo said softly, her thoughts   
returning to her mother. She knew what it was like to be unable to defend  
your family.  
  
"She means everything to me. I'd do anything for her, but I can't stop  
Ranma for her," Ryoga replied, sadness in his voice. "You have to do this.  
Let us help you beat her. If you don't want to do it to help us, do it for  
yourself."  
  
"All right," Ukyo said. "I'll do it - I'll join. I'll help you, Ryoga."  
  
She would have her vengeance, not just for her mother, but for them all.  
Ranma would pay for what she had done.  
  
* * *  
  
"Let's get you suited up!"   
  
"Okay," Ukyo replied, forcing a smile to appease Yoiko. The truth of the  
matter was, she was feeling dizzy, almost to the point of nausea. Her body  
was not yet reacquainted with the concept of standing on its own feet. Her  
leg muscles ached with every movement and staying upright was an ordeal,   
but Yoiko would accept nothing less than unbridled enthusiasm.   
  
Ryoga was Ukyo's tech - that meant providing aid and support in everything  
she did. Yoiko somehow thought that made her a tech's assistant, and she  
seemed to take great pleasure in that role. Ryoga had left, ostensibly to  
speak with the Colonel, but she suspected he left because she was about to  
change her clothes.  
  
Nevertheless, Ukyo wished he was present - if only to control his sister's  
excitement.  
  
"What do I wear?" Ukyo asked.  
  
"This!" Yoiko replied, pulling aside a white sheet to reveal a uniform.   
She swept her hand over the garment, making little inquisitive sounds as  
she tried to judge Ukyo's reaction.  
  
Ukyo, for her part, looked closely at the uniform. It was entirely black,  
with gleaming leather combat boots, khaki pants, a loose jacket that was  
opened - revealing a white undershirt beneath - a belt, a bandolier, and  
thick leather gloves.  
  
It was a change from what she was used to, that was for sure. She noticed  
a small flag embroidered to the top of the jacket's left arm - it was not  
the Japanese flag as she might have expected, rather, it was a white and  
red insignia depicting a phoenix.   
  
Small details such as a plethora of pouches upon the jacket and pants held  
her attention for a time. She wondered for a moment what all of the   
pouches were used for, but imagined their purpose would be explained soon  
enough.   
  
"Black. Lots of black," she said at length, flashing Yoiko a smile. "I   
like it."  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo watched Ryoga with interest, paying attention to all of the little  
adjustments he made as he inspected her uniform. He spent a great deal of   
time ensuring small details were correct - the belt was fastened securely,  
the jacket properly zipped, and a seemingly endless array of ammunition   
magazines, grenades, and other equipment slotted into the various pouches  
about her person. A pistol was strapped to one thigh, a knife to the   
other. It seemed that every available space on her uniform was taken up by  
some piece of equipment.  
  
At least now she knew what the pouches were for.  
  
"No, no," Ryoga said, reaching forward to adjust the submachine gun she   
held in front of herself. "Keep it pointed downwards. Don't put your   
finger on the trigger, either. Rest it across the trigger guard."  
  
"I don't see how a gun is going to help me," Ukyo observed, letting him  
guide her hands.  
  
"You never know when one might come in useful for you," Ryoga replied.  
"Besides, for now, looking like any other member of Alpha Team is the most  
important thing. If Ranma doesn't know who you are, she won't expect your  
attack. If we can get you close to her, you'll have the Wing -and- the   
element of surprise. It's our best shot at taking the dragon down."  
  
Ukyo nodded thoughtfully; she hadn't thought of that. A mirror on the far  
wall allowed her to inspect herself, and the difference was remarkable.  
With her hair tied back in a neat ponytail - tucked into the back of her   
jacket - and her sword concealed inside her uniform, she did not look much  
like the Ukyo Kuonji of old at all.  
  
"Almost perfect," Ryoga observed. Ukyo jumped a little, realizing she had  
been staring. "There's just a few more things you're going to need."  
  
"What're they?"  
  
"Firstly, this," Ryoga said, holding up a black balaclava. He gestured for  
her to bow her head and, as she did, pulled it over her ears and down  
across her face. He tugged it back and forth for a moment, aligning it,  
then stood aside to let Ukyo look in the mirror.  
  
"This thing is way too hot," she spoke, watching the movement of her chin  
through the material of the balaclava. There was a hole for her eyes, but  
the rest of her face was entirely covered.  
  
"It's just going to get hotter," Ryoga replied, holding up a helmet.   
"Alpha members cover up every part of their body, so you're going to have  
to as well."  
  
Sighing, Ukyo bowed her head again and allowed Ryoga to lower the helmet   
onto her head. It was heavy, forcing her head down with its bulk. She'd  
had no idea that wearing the uniform would be this uncomfortable - she  
probably wouldn't have accepted if she'd known. It seemed more than a  
little over the top for a disguise.  
  
The kevlar vest covering her torso felt much heavier and bulkier than it   
had appeared. She had some concerns about her mobility while wearing it,  
but Ryoga had insisted for authenticity's sake. She could feel herself  
sweating already, and she hadn't even started moving yet. Suddenly, she  
regretted agreeing to any of this. As Ryoga fussed over the helmet's  
alignment on her head, she silently vowed to burn the uniform the moment   
Ranma was dead.  
  
"And finally, these," Ryoga replied, holding up a pair of goggles. He  
gestured again for Ukyo to lower her head, and slipped the goggles over her   
forehead as she did. "Multipurpose goggles. Thermal vision, night vision,  
twenty-four times optical zoom. Standard issue to teams Alpha and Bravo.  
They'll hide your eyes, too."  
  
Ukyo felt the extra weight upon her head immediately - these were not   
lightweight goggles. They were large and bulky, with a thick strap holding  
them tight against her helmet. However, unlike most of the accessories she  
was adorned with, the goggles actually sounded useful.  
  
"Here, let me pull them on for you," Ryoga said, reaching up to lower the  
goggles down over her eyes.   
  
The lenses were large, but did not obscure her vision at all. If anything,  
she found it easier to see through them. The equipment attached to the   
goggles obscured most of the upper half of her face, and her own visage -  
bug-eyed, two deep green orbs and a swath of black material covering her  
face - was an intimidating sight. She would not recognise herself as Ukyo  
Kuonji, that much was for certain.  
  
"Perfect," Ryoga said with a smile, as he stepped back from her. "If I  
didn't know any better, I'd swear you were already in Alpha Team."  
  
* * *  
  
"Good work, Ryoga."  
  
"Thank you, Colonel. She fits the uniform well," Ryoga commented. He   
watched her carefully through the two-way mirror, noting to himself the  
stiff nature of her movements. "It's going to be a little while before she  
gets used to moving again. She's been locked down for six months, after   
all."  
  
"We don't have a lot of time," Hunter replied. "I know I can trust you to  
push this along as quickly as possible."  
  
"I understand," Ryoga replied. He watched Ukyo closely as she peered into  
the mirror, inspecting herself without realising she was staring directly   
at him. She continually fidgeted with her uniform, pulling her jacket   
straight, adjusting her goggles, straightening her helmet. "She still   
looks nervous."  
  
"Wouldn't you be?" Hunter replied, watching her just as intently. "This is  
the first real contact she's had with anyone in a long time. She'd rather  
be out killing the dragon. It's all she knows."  
  
"She doesn't look like a killer," Ryoga commented, a contemplative sigh  
escaping him. "I feel bad for pushing her into this. She's a prisoner   
here."  
  
"They never look like killers," Hunter replied. "Believe me, she'll be  
getting what she wants when she destroys the dragon. We're not forcing her  
into anything. Hell, we're helping her just as much as she's helping us.  
It's a win-win situation."  
  
"I hope you're right, Sir," Ryoga said. "Just putting her in that uniform  
made me feel guilty. She's too ... nice to be a soldier."  
  
"She doesn't need to be a soldier, Boy," Hunter said, reaching over to pat  
Ryoga on the shoulder. "She just needs to act like one. Training starts  
tomorrow at oh-five-hundred. Make sure she's there."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	10. My Sweet Halcyon's Fall

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER TEN  
"My Sweet Halcyon's Fall"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Ranma sat perched upon a small boulder, plucking daisy after daisy from   
the grassy verge that ran alongside the stream. She idly tore the petals  
from the flower she held, as she had from a dozen before it, barely paying  
any attention to what she was doing. The frozen petal fell from her  
fingers, falling heavily to the ground and shattering like glass, its   
shards joining a growing pile at the base of the boulder.  
  
"We're wasting time," she commented sourly, crushing the stamen. "We'd be  
there by now if you didn't insist on wasting time every day. What are you  
doing, anyway?"  
  
Akane ignored Ranma's question, but the frown upon her face deepened with   
every flower the redhead tore from the ground. She did not respond,   
however, choosing to remain still and silent, crouched over the softly   
flowing waters of the stream.  
  
Ranma sighed irritably and crumpled yet another daisy in her hands. Akane  
was growing increasingly recalcitrant, a trait which had begun to wear thin  
Ranma's patience. In the half-year since her awakening under Happosai's   
guidance, it seemed that Akane had become acutely aware of her innate   
abilities. Despite Ranma's nearly nine-hundred years of experience in the  
area, the Tendo girl seemed increasingly unwilling to accept any sort of   
advice or instruction.   
  
The evergrowing confidence her student displayed worried her, not least   
because the six months Akane had spent experiencing the life of a dragon   
had remained oddly uninterrupted by the Hunters. Surviving in the real   
world - on the run from real enemies - was an essential skill that Ranma   
had learned only through painful experience. Akane could not hope to  
comprehend it, no matter how much the dragonling might have believed she  
could.  
  
Akane's face was obscured by her hair, the once-black strands having   
adopted a striking blue pattern as they had grown. Akane's hair had grown  
long since her awakening, and now extended down slightly below her   
shoulders. She usually kept it fastened in a loose ponytail, but insisted   
upon letting it dangle loose every morning as she performed her ritual.   
It was yet another of her habits that Ranma did not understand.  
  
A vague outline of Akane's face was visible through the hair, and for a   
time Ranma watched her lips move, trying to discern exactly what she was  
saying. As she had many times before, Ranma eventually abandoned her   
efforts and returned her attention to their surroundings.  
  
The lack of enemy attacks had allowed her to lower her guard ever so   
slightly, and she chastised herself for doing so. She knew better than to   
hope the attacks would stop; a respite, even a six-month respite, was   
nothing to celebrate. It was a curiosity, that was for sure, but not   
something that should be taken for granted. She pondered the   
possibilities, the reasons and the explanations for the lack of attacks   
each night as she watched Akane sleep, but she had been unable to come up  
with any concrete answers.  
  
This fact troubled her greatly. She was used to having some sort of idea,  
however vague, of what the Hunters were planning. A pause of this duration  
was unprecedented. By her reckoning, Ukyo would not bother either of them  
again for twenty years - perhaps longer - but the Hunters were long   
overdue. The only possibility she could think of was that the enemy knew   
something she did not; this did nothing to ease her concerns.   
  
It was such worries that had led her to, two months prior, begin searching  
the Phoenix installations she knew of for information. Over the years she   
had managed to glean information regarding the locations of several Phoenix  
facilities. She did not know much about them - most of her time was spent  
avoiding the Hunters, not trying to find them - but it was a start.   
  
Together, she and Akane had infiltrated three such installations - two   
server facilities and a data processing centre. Their visits had gone well  
- covertly enter at night, recover whatever information was available, and   
leave before anyone noticed they were there. It had worked well so far,   
but had not produced any worthwhile results. Phoenix was, apparently, a   
very large organisation, and stored a vast amount of data. Little of it   
was of any use to her.  
  
Still, perseverance was the key. Their next target was a research   
facility hidden in the middle of Osaka. She did not like entering such a   
densely populated area, but such risks had to be taken. The research   
facility was nearby - if they weren't running behind schedule, they would   
have already been in and out.  
  
"How much longer are you going to sit there?" Ranma asked, her thoughts  
leading her back to her irritation. Again, she was ignored. She grated   
her teeth; this was starting to get very annoying.   
  
Akane slowly lowered her hands to the surface of the water and waved her   
fingers back and forth as she swept them along with the current, mimicking  
the motions of the tiny waves. The water curled with her fingers, thin   
tendrils of liquid curling over her skin as she stroked the surface. Their  
movement was not sinister; more than anything else, it seemed as though the   
water was reciprocating her embrace.  
  
It was a habit that Ranma had witnessed on many occasions. She had long  
since given up on trying to understand it, but took comfort in the fact   
that it was usually performed near the end of Akane's daily ritual, so at  
least the pair would be on their way again soon.  
  
In a way, she supposed, it meant that Akane was receptive to her draconic  
heritage. Certainly, Ryujin's affinity for water was shining through; six  
months ago Akane was frightened to go near water, now, she embraced it   
every morning. Acceptance of the dragon was an important step, and it was  
good that Akane was so willing to accept her true nature.  
  
If only I could do something about her damned impudence, Ranma thought with  
a sigh.  
  
* * *  
  
"I like your taste in clothes, but I really don't see how this get-up is a   
good disguise," Akane said, walking behind Ranma down a busy street. She   
fidgeted irritably with the outfit she had been forced to wear.   
  
The platform boots were clunky and unwieldy beneath feet that were used to  
being bare, the tight skirt and blouse both revealing and chilly compared   
to her gi. The boots had taken some getting used to, and even after   
walking quite some distance in them she still found herself wobbling with  
each step, unused to the extra height they afforded her.   
  
"You blend in well," Ranma replied, glancing up at the now much taller   
Akane. She pulled her cloak, which now resembled an ordinary black   
trench coat, tightly around herself. "You look quite the local girl."  
  
"I guess so. I've never really visited anywhere in Kansai before," Akane   
commented, letting her attention turn to the city around them. Cars   
jostled for position as they crawled endlessly down the road, which was   
adorned on both sides by an endless parade of pedestrians. "This place is   
so full of people. It's wonderful. Reminds me of home."  
  
"Crowded with people, cars, and pollution. I don't see what's so great   
about it," Ranma replied, walking slowly down the centre of the pavement.  
The crowds of oncoming people parted to either side of her as she walked,   
her eyes shifting warily back and forth amongst them as they passed.   
  
"All those people," Akane said, her voice rising with her enthusiasm. She  
smiled as a group of boys made their way past her, her eyes lingering upon  
their faces. Each of the boys returned her smile with wondrous looks in  
their eyes, one of them managing a wave, which was returned by Akane.   
"It's teeming with life. It feels -alive- here."  
  
"You say that as if it's a good thing," Ranma replied, her eyes watching  
every face as it passed her by, checking each for any sign of recognition,   
of panic or alarm. She spared a glance behind herself, frowned, and  
snatched Akane's hand mid-wave. "These humans just get in the way."  
  
"They look scared of you," Akane observed, glancing over Ranma's shoulder.  
The multitude of faces carried worried glances, the expressions of people  
who felt intimidated. Each person was the same; they would glance at Ranma  
and quickly shuffle aside to let the girl past. Ranma seemed to cut a   
swath through the crowds, parting the sea of people long enough to pass   
through. Glancing behind herself, Akane noticed the gap closed behind them   
as the people on either side of the pair came together once more.  
  
"That's because they are," Ranma said, her voice low. She turned and   
whispered, "They may not know it in their minds but in their hearts they   
know what I am. Humans fear death - it's just their instinct. Even so,   
they all come to me in the end."  
  
Akane opened her mouth to reply but was distracted by the feeling of a hand  
brushing across the swell of her hip as it passed her by. Her head whirled  
to the left as she felt the warmth of the hand soak into her skin;   
ordinarily she would have felt angry at some pervert trying to grab her,   
but the wonderful heat came as such a surprise she could do little but   
stare after the man as he disappeared into the throng.  
  
Ever since she had entered the city she had felt an everpresent warmth upon  
the air, a distinct sense that the area was brimming with life - but it  
paled into comparison with the intensity of the feeling a simple touch from  
a person had created in her. She lowered her hand and pressed it gently to  
her hip, holding it to the fabric of her skirt as she savoured the  
lingering warmth of the contact.  
  
What on Earth was that?  
  
"Akane, come on. We're nearly there."  
  
Her thought pattern broken, she turned to Ranma, who had stopped and was  
waiting for her, a nonplussed expression on her face. If something had   
happened, apparently Ranma had not noticed it. With a final, thoughtful   
glance behind her, she resumed walking.  
  
* * *  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"Yeah," Ranma replied with a nod. The building was unobtrusive; a small,  
three-storey building block that blended in with every other building along  
the street. It did not stand out in any way - and that was the way it was  
designed.  
  
"You're telling me it's in a dentist's office?" Akane asked, a skeptical  
tone to her voice. She craned her head, peering over the stacked-up boxes   
that concealed her from the street. From the alleyway in which they had   
sought refuge, she could see little of the building's interior.   
  
"No, there is no dentist and there is no office. From what I could tell  
the last time I was here, the building is basically empty inside. It's  
just an entrance."  
  
"Okay, so, let's go," Akane suggested, taking a step toward the building.  
She stopped in her tracks as Ranma grabbed her by the hair and tugged her  
backwards. "Ow!"  
  
"Not so fast," Ranma chided. "Don't be so eager. We're going to stay here  
and wait for a while."  
  
"For what? That lab isn't going to infiltrate itself, you know," Akane   
countered sarcastically, straightening her hair.  
  
"Two things," Ranma said with a sigh. She was beginning to become tired of  
Akane's constant challenges to her decisions. "Firstly, it'll be easier to  
get inside unnoticed if we wait until nightfall. Secondly, it'll give me a  
chance to see if anyone is watching the building from the outside."  
  
"It doesn't look so dangerous to me," Akane said, rolling her eyes.   
"You're way too paranoid about this whole thing."  
  
"I have reason to be," Ranma replied irritably. "This is a research lab.   
That's higher on the tree than some backup server facility in the middle of  
nowhere. Chances are, this place is being watched very carefully, and we   
do NOT want to be seen."  
  
"Oh, fine," Akane replied. She slumped against the alley wall and slid   
downwards into a sitting position, her knees tucked up against her chest.   
"Okay, we'll wait for nightfall."  
  
"Thank you," Ranma said sarcastically, sending a caustic glance Akane's   
way. Why did she accept such disrespect from Akane? Kayoko would never  
have tolerated it from her. The student should respect the master. That  
was the very first lesson she had learned. Akane was just being childish.  
  
The conversation lapsed into silence as Ranma surveyed the building,   
watching carefully every person who passed by. There were no signs she   
could see that anyone was watching from the street, and she could not see  
any faces behind the windows of the other buildings along the street.   
At first glance, things looked good for a covert entry.  
  
"Ranma?"  
  
"What?" Ranma replied, not moving. An old man with a collection of grocery  
bags stopped outside the building, placing them upon the ground. He   
glanced left and right as he stood for a moment, seemingly catching his   
breath, before lifting the bags and continuing on his way. Ranma eyed him   
suspiciously, examining his facial expression. He seemed innocuous   
enough, but she could never be sure ...  
  
"I was looking for Ukyo."  
  
"Huh?" Ranma asked, her train of thought derailed by the mention of that   
name. "You were what?"  
  
"You asked what I was doing this morning. I was looking for Ukyo."  
  
"Why?" Ranma inquired, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the prickling  
sensation that ran across the back of her neck. The subject of Ukyo Kuonji  
was one that she had been careful to avoid ever since the incident.  
  
She had first mentioned her fight with Ukyo, and the result of that fight,  
nearly a month after the fact. Akane had seemed strangely calm and   
accepting of it as she was told, but after that conversation the young girl  
lapsed into a silence that lasted for nearly two weeks. Ranma worried, of  
course, unsure of what to say or do. The resulting decision was always  
"nothing", leaving silence between them for fourteen days and thirteen   
nights.  
  
When Akane finally spoke again, she talked of the beautiful sunset of that  
day, all traces of her curiosity regarding Ukyo seemingly banished from her  
mind. Ranma had wondered about it, but did not desire to discuss the  
matter further, knowing it would only complicate things. She felt better   
for having told her young charge the truth, and things seemed to be back to  
normal.  
  
Things were not back to normal, however; Akane began to shrink into  
herself, the conversations they had once shared becoming more and more   
scarce, the smiles that had once illuminated her face became rarer and  
rarer until they seemed to disappear entirely. She began her ritual,   
kneeling each morning over a body of water, whether it be a river, a pond,  
or even a muddy puddle in the middle of a field. These moments, when she  
was alone with the water, were the times in which she still smiled.  
  
"I wanted to apologise to her," Akane explained, pressing her thumbs  
against each other as she sat in the murky alleyway. She glanced up at   
Ranma, a wistful expression on her face. "I wanted to let her know I'm   
sorry she's dead."  
  
"It doesn't matter," Ranma replied with a snort. "She's better off dead  
than alive. Death is a kindness to a girl like her."  
  
"It -does- matter, Ranma," Akane countered, a sharp edge coming to her  
voice. It was not an angry tone, more of an expression of frustration.   
"She's dead. I'm going to find her, and I'm going to apologise."  
  
"If it makes you feel any better," Ranma conceded with a sigh. She did not  
approve of the idea, but in her experience she had learned that Akane was   
not one to back down on such things. On some issues she just had to   
compromise.  
  
"Ever since Happosai showed me," Akane continued, using her own euphemism  
for the awakening, "I've heard voices. Not loud voices, just ... they're  
like someone whispering to me. I thought I was going crazy, but eventually  
I figured out that they were coming from the water. I tried ignoring them   
for a while, but it just didn't work. Eventually, I thought - what if I   
talk back? What happens then?"  
  
Ranma said nothing, but moved away from the alley's end toward the Tendo  
girl, a curious look upon her face. It was clear to her that Akane had not  
been forthcoming at all when it came to her experiences. She wondered for  
a moment just what Akane knew.  
  
"I still don't understand what they're saying," Akane continued. "It's as  
if they're all trying to speak at once. I know they can understand me -   
when I ask them to do something for me, they listen."  
  
"The water listens?"  
  
"The people inside the water," Akane said, a small smile passing briefly  
across her face. "I guess it sounds stupid, but I can hear them, and I  
know they can hear me. I think they're glad to see me."  
  
Ranma peered at Akane curiously, sitting down on the opposite side of the  
alleyway. Pulling her feet in under herself, she looked across at Akane.  
"You know more than I thought you did. Water holds the essence of the  
living until it can find a body to live within. Once the body dies, the   
life force returns to the waters to be born again."  
  
Akane nodded and tilted her head downwards, staring into her own lap. The  
faint edges of a smile were visible, and Ranma knew that what she was  
saying made sense to her companion.  
  
"So you want to find Ukyo beneath the surface and speak to her?"  
  
"Yeah," Akane replied, her cheeks flushing. "I know you think it's stupid.  
I don't expect you to understand why. You wear death like that cloak - I   
know Ukyo is just another corpse to you."  
  
"You're right, I don't understand. I'm not going to stop you, but I don't  
think you'll have any luck."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"If you spill a drop of water into the ocean, you can't ever get that drop  
back again. It becomes part of the whole, it loses its individuality and   
is no longer a drop of water, but a part of the ocean."  
  
"She was a person, she was more than just a drop of water!" Akane insisted.  
  
"Was she?" Ranma asked, fixing her student with a piercing stare.  
  
Akane sighed and rubbed her feet back and forth along the rough gravel that  
lined the alley. "I thought ... I thought maybe I could find my mother,   
too."  
  
"Your mother isn't in the water. She died the death of a dragon."  
  
"What does -that- mean?" Akane asked, curling her toes - out of dread or   
morbid anticipation, Ranma could not tell.  
  
"Dragons aren't borne of the waters, so they do not return to them. When  
she died, her essence passed to you. There's no need to search for her -  
she's already a part of you. Just as my father is a part of me."  
  
"Then why can't I feel her? Why isn't she there?" Akane asked, desperation  
in her voice. "Why won't she talk to me?"  
  
"She is there, believe me," Ranma replied, offering a comforting smile.   
"Perhaps she'll make herself known when she's ready."  
  
"Does your father ...?"  
  
"Sometimes," Ranma replied, leaning back against the alley wall. She  
glanced upwards, at the azure sky that peeked through the gaps between  
buildings. A wry smile crept across her features. "Usually just to remind  
me that I'm being lazy, or that I did something wrong, or that I've  
forgotten one of his lessons. I haven't heard from him for a while, but I   
know he's there, watching over me."  
  
"He must love you, to watch over you for eight hundred years," Akane   
observed.  
  
"I guess," Ranma replied with a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe he's got no  
choice. Why would he love the Lord of Death?"  
  
With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, Akane let silence fall  
into the gap between them. Ranma watched her closely as she rested against  
the wall, eyes tracking every tiny movement, from the rise and fall of her  
chest to the occasional twitch of her fingers.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Akane asked after a time, shifting uncomfortably  
as she spoke.  
  
"You," Ranma replied bluntly. "Is it a problem?"  
  
"No, I guess," Akane replied, turning herself away slightly. "It's just  
kinda weird. I'm not used to people looking at me like that."  
  
"It's my duty to watch you. I would have thought you'd be used to it by   
now."  
  
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Akane grumbled, folding her knees  
tightly up against her chest.  
  
"No, I don't know," Ranma admitted with a shrug.  
  
"Oh, nevermind," Akane said with a sigh. Lowering her chin to her knees,   
she glanced up toward the sky, sighing once more as she noticed it was  
still a bright shade of blue. "This lab better have something useful   
inside."  
  
* * *  
  
"Keep quiet," Ranma instructed, an arm across Akane's chest to hold her  
back against the wall. She glanced left and right, her eyes seeking out   
any sort of movement. The streets were illuminated by a multitude of   
sodium lights, each with its own distinctive flicker that combined together  
to light the street with a dull glow.  
  
Occasionally a car would speed by, the noise of its engine echoing through  
the quiet that covered the neighbourhood. This was a market area, and not  
many people lived nearby, so the night provided just the sort of   
environment suited to an infiltration.  
  
Keeping Akane beside her, Ranma edged her way along the wall toward the  
door, taking great care to remain hidden amongst the shadows. She would  
much rather have left Akane outside, but the Tendo girl had seemingly  
infinite curiosity and refused to be left out of anything that might relate  
to her. Even if that were not the case, the thought of leaving Akane alone  
at night on a city street was not one to be taken seriously.  
  
"Fingerprint access," Ranma whispered to Akane as she inspected the front  
door's locking mechanism. A small, elegant black pad protruded from the   
door frame in place of a traditional lock. "Rather elaborate for a   
dentist. You'd think they'd be more discreet."  
  
"Don't you think going in through the front door is a bit dangerous?" Akane  
asked, peering over Ranma's shoulder at the door in question. "I mean,  
won't they be expecting that?"  
  
"Would you expect your enemy to come marching in through your front door?  
Or would you expect them to try something sneaky?"  
  
"Sneaky, I guess," Akane admitted with a shrug.  
  
"Exactly," Ranma replied. "They expect their building to be entered from  
the rear, or through a window. So we do the opposite of what they expect."  
  
"You've done this before, haven't you," Akane inquired, her curious gaze   
going unnoticed in the dark. Ranma's tone was one of enjoyment and   
mischief, a curious sound that Akane had never really heard before.  
  
"Believe it or not, one of your ancestors was a master thief. She could   
empty your pockets and be long gone before you could blink. There wasn't a  
lock built that could keep her out for long. I learned a lot from her,"   
Ranma replied as she silently withdrew Garyoutensei from the depths of her  
cloak. She turned and smiled at the puzzled expression that crossed   
Akane's face. "I'll tell you all about her some other time."  
  
"Please do," Akane replied, watching closely as Ranma pressed the tip of   
Garyoutensei to the small gap between door and door frame and began sliding  
it downwards. A thief? In her family? She'd always assumed that she came  
from a long line of martial artists. How could she be descended from a   
thief?  
  
"The thing about locks," Ranma explained in a hushed voice, interrupting  
Akane's thoughts, "is that no matter how strong or secure, there's always a  
weak point."  
  
Akane nodded absentmindedly, not really taking in the meaning of the words,  
but not wanting to appear inattentive. She focused herself on what Ranma  
was doing - the tip of Garyoutensei slid slowly down through the gap,  
hissing as it made contact with the metal cylinders that held the door  
closed.  
  
"All you have to do is find it and you're in," Ranma finished, a satisfied  
smile on her face as the metal, solid though it may have been, quickly gave  
way to the intense heat Garyoutensei brought to bear upon it. "The trick   
is knowing how to find the weak point quickly."  
  
"Just like that," Akane commented, the ambivalence in her voice obvious   
even to herself. Was she supposed to be impressed by such a dishonourable   
act?  
  
"Just like that," Ranma agreed, sheathing her sword once more. She held   
the door closed with one hand and turned to Akane. "From here on in, we  
have to be very quiet. Just stay near to me, and don't do anything unless  
I do it first. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," Akane said, nodding her assent, all the while trying to ignore the   
moisture that was developing in the palms of her hands. For just a moment   
she wondered why nervousness had only reared its ugly head at that instant,   
but quickly pushed that thought to one side as Ranma silently opened the   
door.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
* * *  
  
Akane crept quietly after Ranma through the interior of the building, which  
looked for all intents and purposes exactly as she imagined a dentist's  
office should. A large waiting area dominated the room, the perimeter   
lined with a series of chairs, each side allocated a small glass table with  
what appeared to be magazines stacked atop each one.   
  
She could not make out the exact magazines in the darkness, nor did she  
have the inclination to do so; Ranma's example was a demanding one to   
follow.  
  
She crept as quietly as she could, but compared to Ranma's effortless glide  
across the floor, her own steps seemed awkward and clumsy. She wondered   
why she hadn't thought to take off the large, clunky boots she had been   
given. Ranma moved slowly - a blessing for Akane, who would have struggled  
to keep up a faster pace and still be quiet - as she examined the room,  
carefully scanning every area for cameras, or other types of sensors,   
before each step.  
  
They inched their way around the room, slowly but deliberately making their  
way toward a small door behind what appeared to be a receptionist's desk.  
It was the only door besides the entrance, leaving them few options.  
  
As they drew near the door, Ranma held up one hand in a "stop" gesture,   
something Akane was only too happy to do. Lowering herself to one knee,  
she glanced back and forth as Ranma worked at the door.  
  
More details presented themselves to her as her eyes adjusted to the gloomy  
office; what had been little more than a black, fuzzy shape revealed itself  
to be a teddy bear of some sort, placed carefully on one of the chairs in   
the waiting area. A passing curiosity tugged at her mind, leading her to  
wonder if the teddy bear belonged to the dentist, or if a childdistracted  
by the unpleasantries of waiting for a dental appointment had left a   
treasured companion behind.  
  
It has been a very long time since she had been to a dentist, or a doctor,  
or school, or any kind of place a girl her age might have normally gone.   
It was nice, in a way, to see a small part - even a part she dreaded - of  
the life she had left behind.   
  
She jumped, startled, as she felt a tug on her blouse. Turning, she saw  
that Ranma was gesturing for her to follow once again. Glancing one final  
time at the teddy bear, she followed Ranma through the door. Somehow, she  
could feel the bear's small plastic eyes watching her as she left it   
behind.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma stepped carefully into what appeared to be a large, empty warehouse.   
The carpet of the office had given way to cold, sterile concrete, revealing   
the true appearance behind the facade. The room was largely empty, other  
than a large hatch in the centre of the floor. Other than the front  
office, it seemed the entire building was little more than a hollow shell.  
  
She stepped toward the hatch, slowly but deliberately, the noise of Akane's  
footfalls reassuring her that the Tendo girl was safely in tow. She made a  
mental note to spend some time teaching Akane the finer points of moving  
silently.  
  
The hatch was solid metal, crafted out of what appeared to be iron. It was  
large, easily large enough to fit a vehicle through. There were no   
security cameras around, which suggested the lab was of little importance,  
but from what she knew of the Phoenix, if something was sealed away behind   
a barrier this imposing, it would be of considerable importance.  
  
The hatch looked far too thick for her to pierce with Garyoutensei - she   
stepped over the surface slowly, carefully looking for any sort of crack or  
weak point that she could exploit, but could see only solid, unyielding  
metal. That left only one option. She chewed her lip for a time, weighing  
up the pros and cons; on one hand it would get them into the facility, but  
on the other hand it would tell the Hunters exactly where they were.  
  
"Akane," she whispered to the other girl, beckoning her. "Come here."  
  
"What is it?" Akane whispered cautiously, peering around her as she spoke.  
  
"If I open this door, the Hunters are going to know exactly where we are,  
and they are going to come after us. We can go ahead anyway, or we can   
turn around and leave right now. It's up to you."  
  
Akane glanced back at Ranma with a puzzled look on her face; Ranma knew   
exactly what was going through the young girl's mind as she looked down at  
the hatch. Beneath it could be all the answers to her questions, or  
perhaps nothing of any use. Either way, the Hunters would be hot on their  
trail.  
  
"I will protect you," Ranma added, sensing the Tendo's hesitation, "but I  
can make no guarantees."  
  
The safest option would be to run, hide. However, they couldn't do that  
forever. Sooner or later, they had to start fighting back.  
  
"Let's do it," Akane whispered, her tone firm. "We'll never know if we  
don't try."  
  
"Very well, if you're sure. After I open this door we have to move   
quickly, we need to be long gone by the time any security arrives," Ranma   
said. So much for the silent approach, she thought. It was time to make   
some noise.  
  
She stepped quietly to the opposite side of the hatch and knelt by the  
small black pad that protruded from the hatch's frame. Her hand emerged  
from the depths of her cloak and with a swift movement, she pressed her  
index finger against the cool black plastic.  
  
A loud hiss filled the air, and the hatch slowly slid aside to reveal a  
ramp descending into the blackness below. One by one, rows of fluorescent   
lights burst into life, each illuminating a small part of the passageway.  
  
"Access granted," intoned a smooth female voice as the hatch locked into   
its open position. "Please remember your laboratory clothing -   
contamination will not be tolerated under any circumstances. Have a nice  
day."  
  
* * *  
  
"Sir, I've found an anomalous Hidari access in the logs for facility 719."  
  
"What do you mean, anomalous?"  
  
"It was recorded after the lab was sealed for the night, sir."  
  
"What's the entry timestamp?"  
  
"Oh-thirty-seven, sir. Entered through the main hatch."  
  
"You're right - that lab should be sealed until oh-six-hundred. What   
credentials were supplied?"  
  
"Hang on, sir, I'll just-- this can't be right. According to the logs,   
there -aren't- any. It has to be a system malfunction. I'll check the   
backup logs."  
  
"No credentials? That's no malfunction."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Contact the Council on the emergency channel, tell them Prime has entered  
facility 719 and request immediate instructions."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
* * *  
  
"How on Earth did you unlock that door?" Akane demanded, no longer   
bothering to keep quiet as she moved quickly to keep pace with Ranma.   
  
"Most doors are coded to allow Hidari access. Since they are duplicates of  
me, we share a few characteristics. Things like blood type, DNA," Ranma   
explained, holding up her finger as she finished, "and fingerprints."  
  
"That seems like a pretty big flaw in the system!" Akane blustered,   
genuinely thunderstruck.   
  
"They'll know something is up," Ranma explained. "We're not -exactly-   
identical, but I'm certainly close enough to fool these scanners for now."  
  
They drew near a door, sleek metal with glass panels - it slid open as  
Ranma pressed her finger to the control pad, and closed itself with a solid  
thunk behind them as they stepped through.   
  
"So the very person this whole system is designed to keep out can just ...  
waltz on in?" Akane asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Technology is  
wonderful."  
  
"They've never had to worry about keeping me -out- before. Normally, they  
try their hardest to get me -in- to a facility like this. They've been  
trying to catch me and bring me in for a very long time - they'd never  
expect me to be stupid enough to come barging into one of these places."  
  
The lighting system caught up to the pair, multitudes of light fixtures   
spaced around the laboratory bursting into bright luminance, covering the  
entire area in a bright, surgical light. The room was circular, its   
perimeter lined with rows of filing cabinets. Two concentric rings of   
computers ran around the middle of the room, enclosing the central feature  
of the laboratory - four glass tubes that ran from floor to ceiling, each  
filled with water.  
  
Akane stared at the tubes, her mouth open - for they held more than water.  
Inside each one was a Hidari clone suspended in the liquid, seemingly  
unconscious, each connected to a complicated tangle of tubing, the lower   
halves of their faces obscured behind black oxygen masks.  
  
"Ranma, look!" she exclaimed, nudging Ranma nervously. She had only ever  
encountered one Hidari beforehand, and she had no desire to repeat the  
experience. She took a step back and glanced toward the door.  
  
"Don't panic," Ranma replied, grabbing Akane's shoulder. "They're not   
dangerous - they're still being grown."  
  
"Grown?" Akane asked, grimacing as she suppressed an involuntary shudder.  
  
"Yeah. They grow 'em in these tubes, then brand 'em," Ranma replied,   
pointing to the small barcode that was tattooed down the centre of the  
nearest Hidari's chest. "Each one has a code that identifies when it was  
made, and where. These guys have been given their codes, so they aren't   
far from being finished, but they won't be bothering us tonight."  
  
"That's hideous," Akane said with a shiver, a feeling of genuine nausea   
gripping her for a moment. The very thought of being cloned chilled her to  
the core. The thought of meeting another being with her face, her body,   
was one she could not bear to think about. "How can you be so calm about   
this?"  
  
"You get used to it," Ranma replied with a shrug. "Sure, the first time I  
ran into one of them I nearly had a heart attack. It's pretty surreal to  
talk to yourself, and fight yourself, but after a dozen or so times, even  
that becomes routine."  
  
"Gods," Akane whispered, staring at the hollow, lifeless eyes of the   
clones. They stared back, the empty stares of their pale blue irises   
seeming menacing even in their torpor. It was truly bizarre to see such   
malevolence in eyes that were Ranma's; eyes that had only ever looked at   
her with compassion and concern. She shuddered again, wondering how Ranma  
could possibly cope with seeing those eyes.  
  
"Come on," Ranma urged, tugging Akane along with her. "You can't stare all  
day. We're in a hurry, remember?"  
  
"Right, right," Akane replied, tearing her eyes from the clones. Even when  
she looked away, she could feel their stares upon her, their eyes following  
her, haunting her, as she moved through the lab. Even if they did not have   
to leave, she did not want to stay in this place. Just as she could feel   
the warmth of life in the city above, she could feel the vacant, hollow   
emptiness that emanated from the centre of the room.  
  
"Do you know how to work these things?" Ranma asked, gesturing to the first  
row of computers.  
  
"What? No... not really," Akane replied, forcing herself to concentrate.   
She'd used them a little in school, but she hardly considered herself an   
expert.  
  
"Me either," Ranma replied, stroking her chin. She turned to the lab's   
outer wall and inspected the nearest filing cabinet. "We'll just have to  
see what they've got on paper."  
  
Releasing Akane, she threw a swift punch at the cabinet, cracking the case   
and causing the drawer to slide out, rattling loudly as it scraped along   
the bent metal frame. "Fortunately, I know how -these- things work."  
  
Akane stared as Ranma rifled through the stacks of paper held inside the  
drawer, baffled at the speed with which the redhead's fingers moved - they  
were little more than a blur darting through the papers. She knew Ranma   
was fast, but she had never seen anything that fast before.  
  
"Don't just stand there," Ranma chastised, not looking up from her task.   
"Get searching."  
  
"Okay," Akane replied, moving to the nearest cabinet. She punched it just  
as Ranma had done and pulled out the top drawer. Reaching inside, she held   
up the first folder, looked at it for a moment, and turned to Ranma. "What   
am I looking for?"  
  
"I don't know," Ranma admitted with a shrug, flipping through folder after  
folder. "Anything that looks like it might be related to us."  
  
"That could be anything," Akane observed as she flicked through the   
contents of the first folder. Her eyes widened as she realised what the   
folder contained. "'Effects of chemical nerve agent 329-B on human   
subjects'? This is ..."  
  
"It's irrelevant," Ranma replied dismissively. "Toss it and keep looking."  
  
"Irrelevant?" Akane asked, taken aback. "How can you not care about this?  
They're testing this stuff on people and you don't care?!"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Ranma replied, an edge of irritation in her voice.   
"We don't have time to look through everything. Toss it and find something  
useful."  
  
"This is horrible," Akane said, dropping the folder in disgust. What kind   
of organisation was this Phoenix? Cloning, weapons research, chemical   
weapons testing? What monstrous entity would dabble in such things?  
  
Thumbing quickly to the next folder, she lifted it and began reading, eager  
to put the first out of her mind.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma frowned as she smashed open yet another filing cabinet. Their search  
had so far been fruitless, and they had spent far longer in the lab than  
she had anticipated. She was determined to find something, anything, to   
make the trip worthwhile.  
  
Weapons research reports, experimental analyses, even financial reports,  
she tore through one after another after another, growing increasingly   
angry at the documents' complete lack of relevance. There had to be   
-something- good amongst all this junk.  
  
Wait a minute, she thought as she lifted a small brown folder. This looks  
interesting. 'Dragon/Human Hybrid Interaction Analysis'.   
  
Opening the folder, she flicked through the pages, skimming over each one.  
The report seemed to detail the effects of integrating a dragon with a   
human - the effects of which she knew well enough herself, without having  
to read a report. What captured her interest was the final page.  
  
A series of names was listed on the page, each matched to a percentage   
figure, which was identified as "measured compatibility".  
  
"Hitomi, Asumi, Ai, Nabiki, Kaori, Ichiko, Eiko," she read, running her  
finger slowly down the list. She fell into silence after a time, reading  
each name to herself, until she drew to the final name on the list. "And  
... Kayoko."  
  
"What's this?" Akane asked, her attention piqued by Ranma's voice. "What's  
that folder?"  
  
"It's your family history," Ranma replied, still reading. "Hitomi, your   
mother. Asumi, her mother. This list goes all the way back to Kayoko. I  
had no idea they'd been following the entire line ..."  
  
"Mother?" Akane asked, peering over Ranma's shoulder. She examined the  
page, her curiosity running rampant. This was the first solid information  
she had ever found regarding her mother. "What do these percentages   
mean?"  
  
"I don't know," admitted Ranma. They seemed to follow a pattern, with   
Hitomi being rated at 99.3%, Asumi at 92.0%, Ai at 84.6%, and so on,   
decreasing with each name until Kamiko, the child of Kayoko's sister, who  
was rated at a mere 0.4%. The only strange figure was that beside Kayoko's  
name - she was rated at 100.0%. "It's some sort of compatibility rating,  
but compatibility with what, I don't know."  
  
"Does it say anything else?"  
  
"'Measured compatibility indices show a clear upward trend, but further   
analysis is required at the MPC before any concrete conclusions can be   
drawn from the data. Post-mortem cellular decay necessitates the location   
of a live sample for experimentation,'" Ranma read from a small paragraph   
at the foot of the page. "'Only living tissue will provide a truly   
accurate measurement.'"  
  
"I ... don't like the sound of that," Akane said, bristling. "That's all   
there is? It doesn't explain any of that at all?"   
  
"Yeah," Ranma replied. "The rest just talks about the effects of being   
part-dragon, and I'm sure you're familiar with those already."  
  
"Let me see," Akane insisted, tugging at the folder. "I want to see."  
  
"Later," Ranma replied firmly, closing the folder. "While we're in here we  
keep looking for more documents. We can read them later."  
  
"But ...."  
  
"No buts, Akane. This isn't the time."  
  
"All right," Akane replied with a sigh, her face thoughtful. She would   
look at the report for herself later on. Its existence in the lab fuelled   
her hopes that she would find more information related to herself or her   
mother. The more information she could find, the better.  
  
"Get moving," Ranma insisted, nudging Akane toward the remaining cabinets.  
"We've got to get out of here soon."  
  
* * *   
  
"Come on, Akane," Ranma insisted, stepping over toward the Tendo girl, who  
was still bent over one of the cabinets, her head buried in the drawer.   
  
"Okay, okay," Akane replied, her voice muffled by the wads of paper   
surrounding her head. "I'm nearly done."  
  
"We have to get moving. We've been here far too long."  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Akane replied, digging deeper into the drawer.  
She knew there was something hidden at the bottom of the drawer. There had  
to be; she had found nothing else. She couldn't leave without finding it.  
  
A loud 'whump' sound ceased her searches, however; the room was suddenly   
plunged into darkness as the electricity cut out, the incessant whirring of  
the computers disappearing into an eerie silence. Standing, she withdrew  
her head from the drawer and looked around, unsure what to make of the  
situation.  
  
"What the hell--" Ranma began, her words cut off as a loud alarm sounded,   
making both herself and Akane jump. The loud klaxon wail filled the air as   
a series of red lights began to flash around the circumference of the room.  
Before either of them could move, a solid iron barrier slid into place   
over the exit.  
  
"Oh, no," Ranma said, her voice carrying the weight of impending doom.   
"Oh ... no."  
  
"We're trapped!" Akane exclaimed, rushing over in the dim red light to the   
metal seal that blocked the door. She banged her fists on it but to no   
avail, it was solid, impenetrable. "What do we do now?"  
  
A loud gurgling sound filled the air, making its presence known even over  
the din of the klaxons. Ranma and Akane turned simultaneously to the centre  
of the room, where the glass tubes were slowly emptying of water. Akane  
swallowed, terror gripping her heart as she realised what was to come.  
  
A series of loud pops and hisses rang through the room as the multitudes of  
pipes and tubes connected to the four Hidari snapped loose, the tangled   
webs of plastic falling away in mere moments. Freed from their restraints,  
the four Hidari straightened, each turning to face Akane, their movements  
perfectly synchronised.   
  
"Stay behind me, Akane," Ranma instructed, stepping in front of the girl.   
Garyoutensei appeared in her hand, illuminating the room with its pale   
white glow. "I'll keep you safe."  
  
Slowly, the glass tubes began to raise, opening a gap at their bases that  
widened as the tubes slid away into the ceiling. Steam billowed out from  
beneath the glass, filling the room with moisture as the seal between the  
tubes and the floor was broken.  
  
One by one, the Hidari blinked, their pupils shrinking as they focused   
their eyes upon Akane. As one they stepped down to the floor, each staring  
dispassionately at its target. Akane swallowed, fighting off a sudden   
feeling of revulsion.  
  
The Hidari carried a palpable sense of a void, of emptiness and darkness  
within them. She had not sensed it before but it screamed at her now,  
threatening to overwhelm her with its sheer strength and potency. They  
radiated fear, terror that clawed at her with a chilling touch. Now she  
could see these creatures for what they truly were.  
  
"You'll never get her, you bastards," Ranma growled, raising her blade.   
The air around it crackled with energy as she brought the sword forward,   
its white light pushing back the ethereal gloom the Hidari carried with   
them. Akane felt her hand drawn slowly toward Shoryoutensei, moving almost  
of its own will to fulfil a yearning need to raise her sword alongside   
Ranma's.   
  
She could not let Ranma fight this battle alone. Not again. Not against  
these ... things. Slowly, her fingers closed around the handle and pulled  
it from its scabbard. For the first time, Akane Tendo prepared to join the  
fight for her life.  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	11. Instincts

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
"Instincts"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
The blaring noise of the alarms had faded into silence, but a loud,   
distracting ringing sound persisted in Akane's ears. Four identical stares   
bored into her skull, each carrying such intensity that she had to fight   
the almost-overwhelming instinct to back away, to run and hide.   
  
She glanced to Ranma, who was trying to say something to her, but could   
not make out the words. She did not need to - the look upon Ranma's face  
spoke volumes.  
  
Stay behind me, Akane. Please, let me protect you.  
  
The stare triggered a sudden, alarming thought in her mind that made her   
recoil. How could the Lord of Death and the Lady of Life be companions?  
  
The clones moved, their motion instantly snatching her attention. Akane  
felt her throat tighten, the encroaching terror that emanated from these  
creatures closing around her neck with its vicelike grip. Within the   
darkness Ranma stood fast, her bright blue eyes locked firmly upon Akane.  
  
Why would Ryukyu, Ryujin's nemesis, strive to protect her?   
  
The Hidari stepped forward together and still Ranma held firm, her eyes  
fixed upon Akane's, shielding her ward from the stares of the clones.  
  
Why were Ranma's eyes filled with such utter, pleading -desperation-?  
  
Such thoughts were violently shoved from Akane's mind as she noticed  
the glimmer of light reflecting off metal from the corners of her vision.  
The clones advanced from their tubes, each brandishing an identical sword.  
They moved with terrifying precision, their motions perfectly synchronised.  
  
Ranma turned, raising her sword as she faced the Hidari. They attacked as  
one, forcing her back, but she countered with blinding speed, her blade   
whirling furiously, a hurricane blasting aside the weapons of her foes.  
  
Akane continued to stare, unable to move, but she no longer stared at   
Ranma. She could feel the essence of humanity in the Hidari but they were  
in every other sense artificial - they moved, attacked as one autonomous  
unit. They were imbued with life in what suddenly seemed to her the most  
sickening way possible - they were little more than empty shells filled   
with the energy of existence, compelled to obey some will that was not   
their own.  
  
Their very presence repulsed her, the sight of them flooding her mind with  
images of their creation, the tearing of life from the waters to fuel their  
unnatural existence. Everything about them, from the empty looks upon   
their faces to the the barcodes tattooed across their chests combined to  
fill her with disgust.   
  
These creatures were not meant to live. They could not be allowed to live.  
  
It was not only disgust that swept through her - they were pitiful, even in  
their cold, calculated malice. She could feel the life force within them,  
begging to be released from the prison that constrained them within  
their freshly-manufactured Hidari bodies.  
  
She watched, entranced, as Ranma ducked an attack, the four swords of the  
Hidari intersecting at perfect ninety-degree angles where Ranma's head had  
been mere moments before.   
  
They were knocked aside by Ranma's counterattack, the girl's blows striking  
with explosive force at the enemies surrounding her. All four went flying  
to land on their backs; one landed near Akane, its eyes latching onto her  
the moment it hit the ground.  
  
She felt sweat pooling in the palm of her hand, loosening her grip upon  
Shoryoutensei, and tightened her fingers around the handle to compensate.  
She knew, in her heart, that as the Blue Dragon it was her responsibility -  
no, her duty - to free them. Ranma had many times warned her that as the  
Lady of Life she could not ever kill, but she knew that somehow she had to  
destroy these abominations.   
  
She could delay and pretend no longer. She had to face up to the fact that  
she would have to fight one day. It was clear to her that that day had   
arrived. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her sword, hoping that   
her instinct would show her what to do.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma watched the movements of the Hidari closely as they stood, trying to  
keep herself close to her ward. It proved difficult with four opponents to  
contend with - three of the clones moved to circle her, while the fourth  
seemed intent on facing Akane.  
  
No you don't, you little bastard, Ranma thought with a snarl, circling   
around Akane, trying to keep the predators at bay. The air hummed with   
her sword's angry glow, the pale silver hue of the blade having given way   
to a bright white light that surrounded the weapon.  
  
The clone in front slashed at her - she easily knocked the blade aside but  
felt its tip rake across the back of her hand, leaving behind a crimson  
trail. She winced, unable to ignore the stinging pain. An animalistic  
snarl burst through her lips as she slashed at her enemy, her own blood  
splattering across its chest as her blade glanced off its shoulder.  
  
The Hidari reflexively grabbed his shoulder; Ranma smirked, swapping her   
sword to her left hand to hold back another blade that was hurtling toward  
her neck. She glanced to her left at her new opponent, at the same time  
flinging her bloodied fist at the face of the third Hidari, a broken nose  
its reward for coming too close to her exposed right side.  
  
She felt a familiar excitement rushing through her veins, a hunger so   
intense that she could not ignore it. The bloodlust she had carried for  
eight hundred years could never be sated, but the demons could be driven  
back with an appropriate sacrifice. It was a high price to pay - but there  
was no shortage of Hidari currency.  
  
A quick twist of her wrist sent the sword to her left flying out of harm's  
way; a quick slash across the stomach of its owner sent the clone sprawling  
backwards, opening some room to move.   
  
The instincts that compelled her, that gave her the speed and the skill to  
win, were too hard for her to ignore. With thoughts of Akane shrinking  
inside her mind, she adopted a low stance, lean muscles coiled like   
springs - waiting for the moment to begin the slaughter. She presented the  
remaining Hidari a predatory smile and stepped back, raising her   
blood-soaked hand to beckon them closer.  
  
These were the latest models, she thought, with the newest upgrades, the  
most advanced combat algorithms. They would not stand a chance. The might  
of machinery could not hope to compete. She was the essence of Death  
itself; how could they possibly compare to her?  
  
* * *  
  
Akane stepped forward to meet her opponent even as she heard Ranma cry out  
in fury. A glimmer of red caught her peripheral vision, the wide arc of  
Ranma's ponytail as the girl threw herself, twisting to gain more momentum  
in her sword-arm's movements, at her opponents. Akane watched, for the  
merest of moments, before turning her attention to the raven-haired clone  
of Ranma that stood facing her.  
  
The boy stared impassively at her, utterly unconcerned as to the plight of  
his comrades. Of course, Akane knew, it could feel no emotions at all.   
That is what Ranma had said. Memories of Ranma's words lapped at the edge  
of her mind, reminding her of her last encounter with the Hidari.  
  
That boy, the boy Ranma had burned in a hidden cave so many months ago,   
that boy who was now little more than a pile of ash, had smiled at her. A  
kind smile, a genuine smile. It was not the work of a mindless automaton -  
it was the smile of the human beneath, a brief outburst of humanity, a   
momentary escape of the soul within.  
  
She steeled herself, the face of that boy in her mind, and raised her   
sword.   
  
The Hidari, who had been standing motionless as she approached, launched   
into motion with a speed and ferocity that caught her off guard. Swings  
came from the left, the right, high and low, an alarming variety of attacks  
in little more than a second. She blocked them all, but it was not as easy   
as she had hoped. Each swipe was clean, concise, efficient; it seemed her  
opponent was testing her defences, calculating her weaknesses.  
  
As quickly as the strikes had began, they ceased. She circled with the   
Hidari, each moving in time with the other, their movements a dance for   
two. Her mind reeled with the possibilities, her every thought intent on   
ending the fight without killing her opponent, without destroying it as   
Ranma had done so long ago. But how?  
  
She snapped to attention as the clone lunged at her; her instincts pulled  
her body from the path of its sword and drove her fist into its face,   
sending it sprawling across the ground. The creature did not stay down for  
long; it stood once more and faced her, a look of confusion upon its face  
as it rubbed at its injured jaw.  
  
Apparently, she realised, she had surprised it. She glanced at her hand,   
at the grazed skin on her knuckles. She had surprised herself as well.  
Obviously, being the Lady of Life did not prevent her from injuring others.  
She felt a momentary comfort, a realisation that she was not totally   
defenceless.  
  
She could not kill this creature - but she would stop it. There had to be   
a way. There had to be.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma swirled her body in a tight circle, her blade landing a vicious blow  
as she swung with brutal force at the nearest clone. The strike was  
blocked, her blade skittering along the edge of its rival, but she felt the  
tip sink into the flesh of the clone's forearm. The sizzle of burning   
flesh met her ears, the stench filled her nose.  
  
She listened to the cry of pain as it escaped the creature's mouth, pushing  
her sword past the arm as it recoiled, licking her lips as she stared into  
its eyes. Tears of pain streamed from those eyes to join the blood   
streaming from the creature's crushed nose.  
  
As she had expected, these were the newest models. They were strong. They  
were fast. But, as always, she was stronger and she was faster. The last  
Hidari she faced had almost won, but now that her strength had returned,  
they stood no chance.  
  
A ravenous smile crept across her face as she stared at the face of her   
opponent. She knew - as it knew - that it was no longer the hunter, but   
the prey. She could feel the grip of fear as it took the creature's mind  
and filled it to bursting point. It was so thick she could almost touch   
it, taste it.  
  
The one aspect of life these creatures understood, their sole insight into  
the nature of existence, was fear. They knew fear; they understood it,   
they could create it, and they could feel it.  
  
The facade of calm evaporated as the clone realised that it could never   
defeat her. Her eyes locked with the creature's, and in an instant an  
intent was declared and an acceptance received. She would consume it, and  
there was nothing it could do to stop her.  
  
A laugh burst through her lips to fill the air as she knocked aside the  
blade of her opponent and slashed her sword across its throat. A thick jet  
of blood spurted from the wound, its heat splashing her in the face as she  
watched the creature fall, the flesh of its neck beginning to burn.  
  
It looked up at her, eyes wide in agony as it gasped for air, its choked   
breaths little more than a gurgling sound. Its sword clattered to the   
ground as it reached in desperation for its throat, instinctively clutching  
the wound in a futile effort to survive.  
  
Spinning her sword, Ranma brought the tip to bear upon the creature's chest  
and with a cry of satisfaction lowered herself to one knee, driving the  
blade through its heart. A short scream touched the air, then nothing, as   
the body was incinerated. A cloud of ash spread across the floor,   
propelled by the the creature's last gasp.  
  
Ranma stood slowly, letting her cloak fall from her shoulders as she did.  
Turning, she leveled her gaze at the two nearby Hidari. They glanced at   
each other, then raised their swords together to hold back the onslaught.  
  
She smiled, enjoying the warmth of blood dripping down her face. There   
would be no mercy for the clones of Ranma Saotome.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane brushed aside a head-high slash from her opponent's blade, the sound  
of the weapon slicing through the air alarmingly loud in her ear. She was  
getting tired; this had gone on far too long. She could not keep up this  
defence forever.  
  
Come on, Akane, think.  
  
A choked scream filled the air and with it came a sharp, stabbing sensation  
in her ribs; gasping for air, she clutched one hand to her chest, shakily  
keeping Shoryoutensei aloft with the other. The blade shook with the  
impact of her opponent's weapon and she tightened her grip, shaky fingers  
struggling to keep her sword steady.  
  
What the HELL was that, she thought, gasping for breath as her heart   
pounded against her hand. Risking a glance toward Ranma, her eyes widened  
as she watched the redhead slowly stand within a small cloud of ash. Even  
as she felt her blade shake again, Akane could not take her eyes from the  
white mist that rose from the ashes, a glowing white vapour that quickly  
faded into nothingness.  
  
She could feel the loss inside her; one of the souls had been destroyed,   
burned, forever removed from the world.  
  
No ... Ranma, what have you done?  
  
A sharp pain skewered her left arm, wrenching her attention back to her own  
battle. She could feel the sting of a wound stretching across her upper   
arm, just as she could perceive the warmth of her own blood upon her skin.   
She gritted her teeth, angry at herself for becoming distracted - angry at  
Ranma for providing the distraction.   
  
The Hidari swept his sword at her legs as she recoiled from his first   
strike, but she was too quick for him, jumping over his attack and   
retaliating by driving her knee up into his chin, sending him staggering  
backwards. She stepped forward with him, pressing the advantage, and   
knocked his blade from his hands.  
  
She moved without conscious thought, years of martial instinct calling from  
within her to guide her actions. She spun, presenting her back to him as   
she did, and with one swift movement brought her sword down and backwards,  
thrusting its tip up behind herself to skewer the chest of her opponent.  
  
The resistance of his ribcage as the sword pushed against it was a   
sensation Akane had never felt before, the sickening feel of flesh and bone  
and sinew fighting to repel the invader as she forced it through him. She   
shuddered as the creature screeched in agony, then fell silent.  
  
The screams of her opponent echoed in her mind, snapping her back to the   
harsh reality she had momentarily left. She stared at the droplets of  
Hidari blood pooling at her feet, the realisation of what she had done  
filling her with absolute, uncontrollable dread.  
  
She could feel the blood draining from her head as the sound drained from  
her ears, a cold rush of horror building within her as her skin turned   
white.  
  
She had killed him.  
  
The silence seemed to stretch forever, even the sounds of Ranma's furious  
battle fading into nothing. All she could hear was the ragged breath of   
her opponent upon her neck, all she could feel was the beating of his heart  
as it reverberated along the blade of her weapon.  
  
With time even those stopped, leaving her utterly alone. Perhaps, she  
realised, she had contravened some sacred decree; perhaps the Lady of Life  
had undone her very purpose in the universe, perhaps it would all come   
crumbling down around her. Perhaps this silence was the beginning of the   
end.  
  
She had killed him.  
  
It was at that moment that something happened, something she had not in her  
wildest imaginings dreamed of.  
  
The Hidari laughed. A choked gasp of relief as the clone's artificial  
body ruptured and its flesh turned to water. The water burst free,   
shattering the body, and with an enormous outpouring of liquid the Hidari  
was gone, leaving nothing behind.  
  
Slowly, Akane turned and looked down at the puddle of water. The white   
glow was faint but unmistakable, and within the water a small patch of moss  
had already begun to grow. Her sword felt warm in her hand and as she   
raised it to her face, she began to understand what she had done.  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma kicked out at the chest of one of the clones, sending it flying   
backwards, the satisfying crack of its ribs dancing in her ears as she spun  
herself around to bring Garyoutensei to bear upon the other. It tried,  
ineffectively, to parry her strikes, but she easily knocked the feeble  
defences aside. She had enjoyed beating them with her hands and   
feet, but it was time for her sword to finish the job.  
  
"You're mine," she whispered, smiling wickedly at the clone. Her hand shot  
out and grabbed its sword-arm, gripping it tightly, her fingers closing in  
around the bone. With a gleam in her eyes, she raised Garyoutensei and   
brought it down, its sharpened edge slicing through the wrist.  
  
The severed hand fell, lifeless fingers still clutching at the handle of  
its sword, to land with a thud upon the floor below. Ranma released the  
clone's arm and pulled the it to her, pressing its chest against hers, and  
brought her face so close that the tip of her nose ran along its cheek as   
she spoke.  
  
"You're about to die. Does that frighten you?"  
  
The Hidari did not respond, save for its agonised whimpering as it   
struggled to comprehend the loss of its hand. Its body trembled in her   
arms, skin growing white as its lifeblood streamed from its arm, and the  
many other slashes decorating its skin.  
  
"I love to kill your kind," Ranma whispered in a conspiratorial tone, the   
blood upon her face smearing across the cheek of her victim as she ran her  
lips along its jaw. Smiling, she nibbled at its chin, staring directly up  
into its eyes even as she pressed the edge of her sword to the creature's  
neck. "Making you suffer is one of my few pleasures."  
  
Pulling the clone closer, she held her body to his, coiling one leg around  
its hip. She said nothing for a moment, listening to the erratic beating   
of its heart. It struggled, weakly, to escape her grip, but her touch held  
it in thrall, leaving it unable to resist as she laid a kiss upon its lips.  
  
"It's been fun," she said, smiling malevolently. With speed so swift the   
clone could not even see her movements, she shoved it backwards, the tangle   
of their legs sending it sprawling to the ground. It looked up at her,   
utterly disoriented. It could do nothing as Ranma slashed at its neck, her  
blade removing its head with one swift, clean blow. "But it's time for you  
to go."  
  
She stared, the smile on her face illuminated by the light smoldering in  
her eyes, as she watched the body begin to burn.  
  
* * *  
  
Akane's eyes glistened as she watched the water seep into the very metal of   
the floor, the patch of moss spreading and growing larger as the shimmering  
whiteness disappeared.  
  
She had done it. She had freed him, and now, she could hear the voice of  
the soul she had rescued calling out to her, its voice tiny but perfectly  
clear. Lowering herself to one knee, she lowered her hand to the fuzzy  
green growth and gently brushed it against her skin. A smile touched her  
face as she listened to the sound, her voice wavering as she offered the  
only response she could think of.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Ryujin had shown her the way. From within the empty, hollow shell of the  
Hidari she had freed the soul, and life had endured through it all. It was  
no longer human, but it was alive - it was a living creature that continued  
as part of the living world, no longer bound by the chains of the Hidari.  
  
The lingering doubts that had dogged her washed themselves from her mind,  
leaving her filled with a resolute vision. She was Ryujin, Lady of Life  
and Mother of Creation. She could free them all. -She- could do it. She  
-had- to do it.  
  
For the first time in her life she felt herself filled with a sense of   
purpose. Raising her sword, she stared into the watery depths of the   
blade, and nodded to herself. It was time to accept her nature.   
  
Finally, she was beginning to understand.  
  
The stabbing pain, the same she had felt moments before, returned to her in  
a sharp, sudden explosion inside her chest. She gasped, frantically  
clutching at her chest as she fell forward, catching herself with the other  
hand. Tears streamed from her eyes as he throbbing pain filled her body,  
leaving her panting for breath.  
  
Looking up from the moss, her vision blurred with the tears of pain, she  
saw the orange flicker of flames licking at Ranma's feet, the body of one   
of the Hidari burning fiercely.   
  
"No!" she cried, her voice burdened with anguish. She was too late; Ranma   
had killed again. Gritting her teeth, Akane willed her body to get to its  
feet. There was still one clone left. If she moved quickly, she could   
save him.  
  
* * *  
  
"It's just you and me," Ranma said, her voice little more than a growl, as  
she advanced on the single - weren't there four? - remaining Hidari. It   
scuttled away from her, struggling to reclaim its feet after the staggering  
blow it had taken to the chest. It left a trail of blood upon the floor as   
it struggled to get away from her. "You're pathetic. Get up."  
  
She lowered the tip of her sword to point at the creature, a tingle of   
excitement rippling through her as she stared down at its battered form. It  
had, as all the clones had, taken a beating during the fight, and could  
barely keep itself off the floor. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as the   
anticipation filled her, a delicious heat spread within as she contemplated  
the many ways for this creation to die.  
  
"How should I make you mine?" she wondered aloud, enjoying the tiny tremors  
that wracked its body as it stared up at her. It still carried its sword,  
but she had long since broken its will. Even if it remembered how to use  
the weapon, it would not have the strength to pose a danger.  
  
She sneered as she looked down at its broken form. Its arm appeared to be  
fractured, one of its ankles twisted at a bizarre angle, and blood poured  
profusely from its mouth and nose. It coughed, another gout of red liquid  
bubbling from between its lips as it stared up at her. A burning anger  
churned within her, compelling her to plunge the sword right between those  
shining blue eyes, those eyes that were hers but not hers, to take from it  
the life it had stolen from her.  
  
"Ranma!"  
  
The voice - female, fearful, familiar - shook her from her fantasy, causing  
her to turn her head toward it. It came from a girl who stood nearby, a  
tiny thing with impish features who carried a blade made of water and spoke  
with the voice of a dragon - she knew that voice, she knew that blade, she  
could remember ...  
  
... Akane?  
  
* * *  
  
"Stop it!" Akane cried, her voice filled with desperation. Ranma stepped  
back, stunned by the power lurking behind the words. Akane marched toward  
her, speaking again. "Don't kill him!"  
  
"It'll ... kill you if I don't," Ranma replied, hesitantly, her sword still  
pointed directly at the clone's chest. The redhead frowned, her eyes   
darting back and forth as she struggled within herself to hold back the  
blade.   
  
"Just wait, Ranma. I want to-- Ranma! Wait!"  
  
Ranma's eyes snapped to Akane, centuries of instinct commanding her to jump  
to attention. A sharp vibration rocked her arm, accompanied by a loud  
hissing sound in the air. She glanced away from Akane long enough to see  
her sword straining to cut the Hidari's neck, the watery edge of   
Akane's sword shaking as it tried to hold Garyoutensei back.  
  
"I didn't ... I don't ...." Ranma stammered, staring at the thin line of   
steam rising from the junction of the two blades.  
  
"Please, Ranma, stop," Akane pleaded, pushing with all her strength to hold  
Garyoutensei at bay. "Give me a chance."  
  
Ranma nodded, hesitantly, her arm slowly pulling back as she fought down  
the urge to lunge at the Hidari. Every fibre of her being screamed at her  
to pull Akane out of the way and end this creature's miserable existence,  
and it was all she could do to stand still.  
  
"Thank you," Akane said, a smile passing quickly over her lips. She stood   
for a moment, her hand lingering on Ranma's arm, before turning to face the  
single remaining clone. She stepped close to him, lowering herself to one  
knee in front of him.  
  
"Akane, no," Ranma warned. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
Akane held a hand up to silence her companion, then lowered it to the   
Hidari's shoulder. The creature's eyes widened, its body twitching to  
pull away from her. Its breath was shaky, and Akane could feel the   
rhythmic spasm of its body with every heartbeat. Even as he stared up at   
her, she could see its fingers trying to tighten around the handle of its  
sword.  
  
"Don't be afraid," she said, her words soft, as she ran her hand slowly to   
his chest. His fingers fell loose once more, his eyes half-closed, the   
pupils dull with the pain that wracked his body. His hand fell limply to  
the floor, his will to fight utterly defeated.  
  
Akane smiled sadly down at the boy. Ranma had really beaten hell out of  
him - out of all of them. She could not blame Ranma, it was what she had  
spent her life doing. It was her nature. Ranma was just doing what she  
thought was right - protecting her ward.  
  
Despite her own rationalising, it pained her to see such suffering, even in  
the eyes of a creature bred to kill her. Slowly, she brought Shoryoutensei  
forward and held the tip of it to the creature's chest - not quite   
touching, suspended a tiny distance away from its skin.  
  
"It won't hurt," she reassured him, finally able to look a Hidari in the  
eyes with no fear. His eyes narrowed, unspoken questions hiding behind  
them, wondering why someone who seemed to be helping him would hold a sword   
to his chest.   
  
Akane sighed sorrowfully, closing her eyes. This creature simply did what  
he was compelled to do. He didn't know why it was attacking her, he didn't  
know what she was, he didn't understand the implications of his actions.   
He was just a puppet, doing as he was told. He did not hate Akane, nor did  
he hate Ranma. She wondered, for a moment, if he even understood what hate  
was. After his fight with Ranma, she supposed he must have learned.  
  
The tip of her sword touched him - he flailed for but a moment, his body's   
instincts making a last, desperate attempt to survive. It passed, however,  
as the watery blade pressed further into his skin, sliding in between his  
ribs. Akane pushed quickly, mercifully quickly, piercing his heart with a  
smooth motion.  
  
"Go free, go home," Akane whispered as the blade's tip touched the solid  
floor below. His eyes widened, as perhaps his questions were answered, and  
then he was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
"We've lost the interceptors."  
  
"What? All four?"   
  
"Biofunction scanners report that their hearts are no longer beating."  
  
"Damn it. What's the ETA for reinforcements?"  
  
"The nearest unit has already changed course, but they're four hours   
away."  
  
"There's nothing nearer?"  
  
"I'm searching, but none of our interceptors-- wait. I'm getting a  
perimeter alert - she's trying to breach the emergency doors."  
  
"Of course she is. The seals won't contain her for four hours - damn it.  
We'll be lucky if they hold for one. Keep those interceptors on course;  
advise them that she will probably be mobile by the time they arrive   
on-site."  
  
"Aha! The Leviathan Spring is within range - should I inform the CO?"  
  
"No - we're keeping the military out of this for now."  
  
"Are you certain? With a chopper insertion they could have a strike team  
on-site in twenty minutes."  
  
"If we inform Hunter, he'll activate the Wing. That's not an option yet.   
It's not ready for combat duty. Do -not- inform him of the situation. We   
don't want him making any hasty moves. Let our interceptors tail her for   
now."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
"In the meantime, I want a full security log dump on my desk in fifteen   
minutes. Everything. I want to know -exactly- what happened down there."  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma fell to one knee, her eyes wide as she lowered her blood-stained hand  
to the small patch of moss that was growing larger by the second. A loud,  
rhythmic clanging sound filled her ears but was ignored as she pressed her  
fingertips to the greenery.  
  
It was warm, soft to the touch. The clanging continued, ever louder, but   
she paid it no need as she ran the palm of her hand across the plant. Its  
tiny strands drifted ticklishly across her skin, the fuzzy growth still wet  
from the rapidly-disappearing puddle of water that had spawned it.  
  
The noise pounded at her mind but still she refused to hear it, focused   
entirely upon this mysterious green growth. Moss? Growing on a metal   
floor? In the middle of a sterile laboratory?   
  
It was soft, it was warm; it was alive. It was not supposed to be there.   
Ranma stood, suddenly aware of the deafening sound that was drilling into  
her ears, and spun towards Akane.  
  
"What did you do?" she called, loud enough to be heard over the din.  
  
Akane's strikes against the door grew harder, her watery blade slicing deep  
into the metal. Each blow diminished the door, a tiny amount of water   
dribbling to the floor each time she withdrew the blade. For all her   
efforts, she had barely damaged the door at all.  
  
"what the HELL did you do?" Ranma demanded more insistently, moving away  
from the moss and toward her student. Again she was ignored; this time she  
grabbed Akane's sword arm and held it back.  
  
"I don't know," Akane replied, not bothering to struggle against Ranma's  
grip. She glanced back at Ranma for a moment, a plaintive look in her   
eyes, obviously struggling not to cry. A look of - Ranma was unsure   
whether it was fear or anger - passed over Akane's features as she examined   
Ranma's face, but the girl said nothing.   
  
Ranma released her arm, letting Akane resume her attacks upon the door, and  
brought her fingers to her own face. The familiar texture of dried blood  
met her fingertips as she touched her cheek; she sighed, suddenly  
understanding the look Akane had given her.  
  
Ranma turned to the moss once more, knowing Akane would give no answers.   
She had seen it with her own eyes; Ryujin, the dragon mother of all   
creation, had stabbed a living creature to death. It was something she had  
never imagined she would see - something she did not know was even   
possible.  
  
Akane had killed the Hidari. Two of them, judging by the similar patch of  
moss upon the floor at the other end of the laboratory. Ryujin, a killer?  
It could not be, there had to be some sort of trickery at work, some   
attempt to deceive her - these damn Hidari were slippery, perhaps--  
  
"I understood when I did it," Akane said, drawing Ranma out of her fitful  
concentration. "I knew exactly what I was doing, it was all perfectly   
clear. Now that it's over, I can't remember what the hell I was thinking.  
  
"It's like one of those dreams," she continued, her sword coming to a rest  
with its blade buried in the door. "A strong, vivid dream, but the moment  
you wake up you forget it. You can -almost- remember it, but it just stays   
ever so slightly out of reach. You know?"  
  
Ranma nodded sympathetically as Akane glanced at her. In truth, she did   
not know what Akane was talking about - she could not remember the last   
time she had slept, let alone dreamed; however, it was not the time or the  
place for such thoughts.  
  
"I don't think we'd be here anymore if you had done the wrong thing," Ranma  
offered, her voice thoughtful as she regarded the moss once more. "Ryujin  
isn't -allowed- to kill. I don't know what you did, but you didn't kill  
it."  
  
"I think I did the right thing," Akane said, nodding even though she   
sounded utterly unconvinced. She sighed and turned back to the door, tears   
brimming in her eyes as she raised her sword once more. "At least, I ... I  
hope I did."  
  
"We got what we came for," Ranma said, patting the small folder through her   
cloak. "Let's get out of here before reinforcements arrive. We can talk  
about this later."  
  
"Believe me, you don't have to tell me twice to leave this place."   
  
* * *  
  
"The perimeter has been breached. The main blast door has been   
compromised, and Prime is fleeing the facility."  
  
"Already? How far away are the nearest interceptors?"   
  
"Just under two hours now. They're moving faster than I anticipated."  
  
"They're still not moving fast enough. Track her as long as you can, and   
notify all other teams in the areas surrounding her location. Keep me  
updated as to their progress."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo sat quietly at the cafeteria table, trying her best to concentrate on  
the meal before her. It seemed to her that it was meant to be bacon and  
scrambled eggs. She supposed at one point it might have been, but what had  
happened to it since then eluded her and, quite frankly, she did not care   
to find out. Ignorance is bliss, after all.  
  
She poked at the slightly off-brown mush that she assumed were the eggs and  
let out a sigh. She had never really eaten a lot in her travels, but she  
had been instructed to blend in as well as she could, so here she was,  
trying to digest food that could be considered edible only in the broadest  
possible sense.  
  
Six other members of the Alpha squad sat around the table with her, each  
devouring their meals with gusto, talking amongst themselves between   
mouthfuls of food. Obviously, the local cuisine was an acquired taste.   
She glanced at them momentarily, her curiosity getting the better of her.   
  
There were a few Japanese around, but for the most part, the inhabitants of  
the vessel were foreigners. That fact struck her as slightly unusual; she  
had wondered on the odd occasion why that was the case, but her desire to   
maintain a low profile overrode any urge to ask unnecessary questions.  
  
For her entire life she had been alone in a world of strangers; she wanted  
to treat the current situation no differently. The only problem was, these  
strangers had names.  
  
There was Ryoga, of course, and his sister Yoiko. She had almost grown  
used to being around those two, if for no other reason than they had   
introduced her to her current situation. They seemed nice enough, and   
while she instinctively felt wary of everyone she met, Ryoga seemed like a  
person she could depend on. His devotion to her was unwavering, and  
perhaps a little unsettling.  
  
There was also Hunter - the Colonel she had met four weeks ago and barely  
seen since - as well as Michael Shilton, his aide. Shilton was on the   
research staff, and from what she could tell seemed more concerned about   
her welfare and progress than her functions in the Alpha Team.  
  
At the opposite end of the spectrum was Sergeant Akusawa, the drill   
sergeant for Alpha Team. Akusawa seemed to care little for her welfare,   
regularly insisting the team exercise until well past the point of  
exhaustion. He was a fearsome man, enormous in stature, with a body shaped  
like a bullet and an attitude to match. The members of the Alpha and Bravo  
squads were all hardened soldiers, and so the sergeants had to be tougher  
than the squad members to keep them in line.  
  
Alpha Team was divided into two units of seven, and the six others sitting  
around the table with her were her unit, what Akusawa would repeatedly   
insist she should consider her family. To her, they were little more than   
annoyances. She didn't -want- to be curious about them, but she could not  
help herself.  
  
Angela, or 'Angel' as she was known, was the unit's medic; she seemed kind,  
always concerned about her teammates. She had a pleasant demeanour when   
talking with the others, her face usually carrying a smile. She did not   
seem to get angry at all, which was a counterpoint to the aggressive nature   
of most of the other team members.  
  
The same could not be said for Brian the 'Baker', the team's demolitions  
expert. He was a large, grizzled man, a perpetual scowl darkening his   
face. When he spoke his words escaped his mouth with awkwardness and   
difficulty, each syllable given a messy, protracted birth.  
  
A small Chinese girl by the name of Ling sat alongside the Baker, her tiny  
frame dwarfed by his enormity. She was 'Link', the team's communication   
and intelligence expert. For an expert in communications, Ukyo had seen   
little actual communication from her. The girl sat in silence for the most  
part, watching the goings on of her fellow teammates without saying a word.  
  
As little as she knew about Angel, Baker and Link, the remaining three were   
even more of a mystery. 'Scar', 'Hammer' and 'Anvil' were their nicknames;  
she did not know their real names. They were the direct assault   
specialists of the team.   
  
Hammer and Anvil were twins, and they seemed to move with uncanny  
synchronisation. When they spoke, more often than not one would start a  
sentence only to have the other complete it. As she thought about them,  
she realised she had never seen the two of them apart. The strange nature  
of their cooperation made her intensely curious, which only made her lack  
of knowledge about the pair all the more frustrating.  
  
Scar was the team leader, his nickname apparently derived from the large  
scar that streaked diagonally across his face. He was young - they were   
all young, now that she thought about it, rather young indeed for soldiers   
- and Japanese, but other than that, Ukyo knew nothing.   
  
"So what did you do?" Scar asked, his voice pulling Ukyo away from her   
thoughts.  
  
"What do you think I did? I did what he told me to do," Baker replied.  
  
"He didn't tell you to break his nose," Angel observed, pointing with a   
slimy strip of bacon suspended from her fork.  
  
"Hey, he told me to hit him," Baker said, raising his hands defensively.   
"I just do what I'm ordered."  
  
"You're an idiot, Baker. Sarge is going to bust your ass," Scar said,   
shaking his head as he laughed. "He doesn't like you busting up his   
instructors."  
  
"The way I see it," Baker said, his voice adopting an unusually   
philosophical tone, "I can either fight for real in training, or I can get   
my ass handed to me by the dragon 'cause I don't know how to fight."  
  
"But you've been through the same combat drills hundreds of times before,"   
Angel argued. "You ain't learning anything by breaking noses. You're just   
pissing off the brass."  
  
Ukyo returned her attention to her food, not desiring to be caught up in   
the conversation. However, much to her dismay, she was not fast enough to   
escape notice.  
  
"I figure if I don't give it everything I've got, what's the point?" Baker  
said with a shrug. "What do you think, Wing?"  
  
Ukyo shuddered at the name. It was something of a foregone conclusion that  
she would be named Wing by the others. She had been paraded in front of  
them, exhibited as the vehicle for the Seraph Wing, it was inevitable that  
she would be remembered for that above all else. She sighed, having long   
given up trying to convince anyone to call her Ukyo, or - even better - to  
not talk to her at all.  
  
"None of my business," she said, attempting to appear focused on the lumpy  
brown mush that was rapidly adhering to her fork. She grimaced, wrinkling  
her nose as the odour of the substance wafted upwards.   
  
"What would you have done?" Baker asked, with irritating tenacity.  
  
Ukyo sighed and glanced up at the six of them, each looking expectantly at   
her. It was obvious they wouldn't be satisfied until she gave them an  
actual answer. She placed her fork down on her plate, at least glad to be  
rid of the foul-smelling substance it held, and pondered her reply.  
  
"I wouldn't have fought him," she said, after a few moments' thought.  
  
"Why not?" Angel asked, seemingly surprised by Ukyo's answer.  
  
"My fight is with Ranma, not some instructor. I only fight those I mean to  
kill," Ukyo continued, considering each word carefully. She was slightly   
unsure of herself, but as the words rolled off her tongue she found a   
comfortable familiarity with their meaning. Her fight was with Ranma. She  
would kill Ranma. She did not want to fight anyone -but- Ranma.   
  
"You -can't- tell me you've only ever fought one person," Scar said,   
incredulous.  
  
"Only Ranma," Ukyo replied. She knew these soldiers expected her to be   
some sort of super-soldier, that they had been told by their superiors she  
was the answer to their problems. The looks on their faces as she spoke   
varied, some looked disappointed, others disbelieving. She shrugged in   
response to their questioning gazes. It didn't matter what they thought of  
her.  
  
"That's ... strange," Link observed, the first time in nearly a week Ukyo  
had heard her talk. It was short, but to the point, and seemed to sum up  
the overall feeling of the group. Ukyo sighed and returned to her food,   
irritated at being the centre of attention. She knew she was strange; that  
did not mean she wanted to linger upon it.  
  
"I'll kill Ranma, and that will be the end of it," she said, her voice   
carrying a note of finality. She glanced at the others for a moment,   
waiting for a challenge, but none came. She had won, and silence was her  
reward.  
  
She returned to her food and began to eat in earnest, the foul taste of the  
food preferable to the flavour of conversation. The silence of the others  
lasted only a few moments before their conversation sparked up again, and  
before long the discussion had turned to the merits of alcohol.  
  
Ukyo tuned their words out and concentrated on her food. It was strange;  
she had not thought of Ranma for some time now - her new training regimen   
had made sure of that - but when she lay in her cot at night, staring at   
the ceiling while the others slept, she sometimes pictured Ranma in her  
mind. Always, every time, she saw two others alongside her nemesis, two  
figures whose identities she could not quite discern ....  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo snapped back to reality as she heard the sudden shuffling of feet all  
around her. Looking up from her empty plate, she noticed the other members  
of her team were standing at attention. The bulky form of Sergeant Akusawa  
caught her eye and she immediately jumped to her feet alongside the others,  
hoping the Sergeant would not notice her tardiness.  
  
"At ease," Sergeant Akusawa instructed. He gestured toward Ukyo. "You,   
come with me. The rest of you, sit down and shut up. You've got another  
round of CQB training in fifteen minutes, ladies! I suggest you cut the   
chatter and get eating."  
  
Ukyo stepped away from the table and toward the Sergeant. He nodded to her  
as she drew near, then turned back to the remaining soldiers.  
  
"And Baker - my office. Now. Wing, you're with me."   
  
Akusawa turned and began a brisk pace toward the cafeteria exit, and Ukyo   
kept pace behind him, keenly aware of the eyes of the other soldiers   
burning into her as she marched away to her fate. Her mind dreamed up a  
dozen different reasons why she was in trouble, and just as many sadistic  
punishments that would be inflicted upon her.   
  
At least I'm not the only one in hot water, she thought.  
  
She stared at the back of Asukawa's neck as she followed him. It was lean,  
firm with muscles from a lifetime of hardship. He was a tough man, a  
strong man; a soldier. She drew an imaginary line across his neck, just  
below his shaved hair, around which her hands would close as she throttled  
the life out of her tormentor.   
  
Asukawa had put her through hell for the past few weeks, all in the name of  
"training". Her instincts alone told her she could easily snap his neck   
like a dry reed, but what then? Half of the sub was filled with soldiers;   
she could probably kill them all if she was shrewd, but even if she did -   
and then somehow managed to escape to the surface and make it back to land   
- she would be no closer to Ranma. At least these people seemed to know   
what they were doing, and their goals were compatible with hers.  
  
No, she decided, loosening her fists, she would not crush Asukawa's throat.  
She would kill Ranma, and that would be all.  
  
One of the sub's ensigns stood guarding the door; he shifted aside to let   
the pair pass. Ukyo did not miss the look in his eyes - it was something  
a cross between the wide-eyed gaze of curiosity and the shifty-eyed glance  
of suspicion. It was the look nearly every single person aboard gave her;  
she had even seen it in Asukawa's eyes once or twice, quickly covered by a  
veneer of authority.  
  
These people were afraid of her. Perhaps, she pondered, rightly so.   
  
"Ukyo!"  
  
She glanced aside at the sound of the familiar voice, the use of her real  
name managing to bring a smile to her face. Ryoga rushed toward her,   
wearing his everpresent white coat, an effervescent grin lighting his   
features.  
  
"Hibiki here will escort you to the tertiary laboratory, Wing," Asukawa   
instructed.  
  
Ukyo glanced back and forth. Where were the guards? Ever since she had   
arrived on board the Leviathan Spring, there had been large men with guns  
to guard her. An ineffective measure - she could easily kill them - but  
one notable by its absence. She thought upon it for a moment, until   
noticing Ryoga's insistent smile once more.  
  
"Hello, Ryoga," she said, smiling at him. He smiled in return, and waved  
a clipboard animatedly.  
  
"We're ready to install the external amplifier!" he beamed, taking her hand  
and leading her down the corridor, away from Asukawa. "The final testing  
phase went without a hitch, and we're ready to go live."  
  
"External amplifier?" she asked, still glancing back and forth. No guards  
to be seen. Nobody following them. All she could see were the everpresent  
security cameras, whirring quietly as they rocked back and forth upon their  
mountings.  
  
"Yeah, remember? The Wing is in two parts; the internal core attached to  
your spinal column, and the external amplifier, which adheres to your skin.  
The Wing won't perform properly without both. Now that we've completed the  
testing, we can finally upgrade you to active status."  
  
"Sounds good," Ukyo replied, her lack of attention becoming obvious to her  
companion.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Where are all the guards?" she asked, turning her attention to him.   
"Normally there's a couple of guys with big guns ready to take me down if  
I try anything."  
  
"Obviously, they don't think you're going to hurt me," Ryoga replied with  
a smile. His eyebrow twitched slightly, but noticeably. "You're not, are  
you?"  
  
"Of course not," Ukyo replied with an exasperated smile. She laughed it   
off, but did not let her eyes linger too long on her companion. There had  
to be a reason for the change.  
  
"You're really going to like the work we've done," Ryoga enthused, his   
enthusiasm strongly reminiscent of his younger sister. "I wouldn't want to  
be Ranma right now."  
  
"I wouldn't ever want to be Ranma."  
  
* * *  
  
"How long is this going to take?"  
  
"It's a pretty involved procedure," Ryoga commented, strapping Ukyo down to  
a table. She lay face-down, able to peer at the floor through a face-sized  
hole provided for her.  
  
"How involved?"  
  
"It's gonna take us all night," Yoiko said, before her brother could reply.  
"We've got to attach interface nodes along your the backs of your arms,   
your legs, and your back, then connect them together into a network."  
  
"These are the nodes," Ryoga said, holding a small black cylinder under the  
table. It was about the size of a bullet, and seemingly made of metal.   
"Each one of these connects to nerve endings in your body, which allows the  
control signal to propagate to them using your own nervous system as a   
medium."  
  
"What does that mean?" Ukyo asked, trying and failing to follow the node as  
Ryoga snatched it out of her sight.  
  
"It means you're going to have this stuck to your skin," Yoiko said,   
holding a thin strip of what appeared to be black rubber for Ukyo to see.  
"You'll have a strip along the back of each arm, one along each leg, and  
one up your spine. Other than that, you won't noticed a thing."  
  
"But what is this going to do?"  
  
"Wait and see," Yoiko said, in a sing-song voice. Ukyo frowned, imagining  
the delighted smile that was no doubt dancing across the young girl's face.  
  
"You're going to like it," Ryoga assured. A quiet hissing sound filled the  
air, and Ukyo felt herself growing lightheaded. "Relax; this will be over  
in no time."  
  
"Easy for you to--" Ukyo began, unconsciousness taking her before she could  
finish her sentence. Her body slumped, her eyes closing as her body shut  
down. She quickly became still, relaxed, the only movement in her body the  
rapid flicking oscillation of her eyes as she began to dream ....  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	12. Homecoming

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE  
"Homecoming"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
"Master, Shampoo bring food."  
  
Ukyo turned and glanced at the Amazon as she unloaded a mountainous pile of  
fish, their bodies still moist from the nearby river's water. Ranma, for  
her part, smiled gratefully and gestured for Shampoo to sit alongside her.  
The pair began a muted conversation, their words unclear to Ukyo, and  
before long, Shampoo was leaning into Ranma's side, letting her head rest  
upon her master's shoulder.  
  
Ukyo turned away, leaving the pair to themselves, and surveyed the horizon.  
Ranma had picked a good spot to rest. They were sitting atop a cliff that  
overlooked a nearby valley which gave them both a panoramic view of the  
land ahead and one less front to defend during the long stretch of night.  
  
The land before them appeared friendlier than the land behind; the steep  
mountains and inhospitable forests gave way to gentle, rolling hills that  
seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the swaying grass that lined them  
seeming to beckon her onwards.  
  
She could not deny that this was a beautiful place; the small island she  
had spent almost all of her life upon was pleasant in its own way, but the  
seemingly-endless stretches of land, decorated with haunting, empty  
mountains, and achingly beautiful valleys, was like nothing she had seen  
before. It was simply stunning - she wished she had time to admire the  
wondrous scenery, but she could not afford herself that luxury. There was  
a job to be done, and she would not stop until it was complete.  
  
She had, during her time with the two others, come to respect Ranma, both  
for Ranma's keen survival senses and the kindness she had been shown during  
their shared journey. Rescuing her from those soldiers was more selfless  
a deed than many would have undertaken; to escort her afterwards, to share  
food and company was extremely generous. She had nothing with which to  
repay the kindness of her companions, so she vowed to herself that one day  
she would return their favour.  
  
Each night they settled down and gathered a fire, usually made from wood  
dutifully gathered by Shampoo. They would stay like this for a time -  
although very few words passed between them - then extinguish the fire and  
go to sleep.  
  
It was an odd arrangement. Ukyo herself did not rest; she had seen others  
sleep, but could not remember ever doing so herself. She had always  
thought that a little odd, but in Ranma she had found someone else who  
shared her habit. Ranma did not sleep at all either, which meant for  
strangely haunting evenings as the pair of them would lie awake with the  
sleeping Shampoo between them, curled up against her master.  
  
She stared at the stars overhead, cast like pale embers amongst the wispy  
clouds. The moon hid behind a large group of clouds, its light peeking  
out through holes in the cloud every few moments to cast a brief  
luminescence upon the landscape. They had to be near Edo now. They had to  
be.  
  
She drew her legs to her chest and encircled them with her arms, resting  
her chin upon her knees. As much as she longed to see the village, to  
complete the task she had set out upon so many years ago, she could not  
help but feel a sense of dread. She wanted to finish her task; the very  
thought of it clawed at her mind in every moment of every day, but even  
with the fires of determination burning so hotly inside her she could not  
help but feel a paralysing anxiety at the thought of being so close to him.  
  
She sighed, and closed her eyes, trying to banish such thoughts from her  
mind. It was not the time to second-guess herself.  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo winced as she tied a small knot in the bindings she had wrapped around  
herself, twisting her arms at an awkward angle to give her hands access to  
the middle of her back. The material was wrapped tightly around her torso,  
compressing her breasts against her ribcage. It was a tight fit, and  
uncomfortable in the extreme, but she did not care. She had been  
travelling far too long to ruin her plans by making a last-minute mistake.  
There was much to be said for taking the proper precautions.  
  
She heard Ranma calling to Shampoo but could not make out the words. When  
the Amazon girl had spotted a trail of smoke rising from beyond a ridge,  
Ranma had quickly climbed a nearby tree to get a better vantage point.  
Ukyo had taken the opportunity to excuse herself. Now, with thick brush on  
one side and a stream on the other providing cover, she continued preparing  
her disguise.  
  
When the bindings were tied to her satisfaction, she reached higher and  
tied her hair into a tight ponytail, tying it in several places along its  
length. She carefully dangled it down her back and pulled her tunic back  
over her bare shoulders, concealing both her hair and her bindings within  
its fabric.  
  
It was a crude disguise, but she reasoned that she would only need it to  
stop him from recognising her from a distance and making his escape. Crude  
would suffice. She leaned over the gently flowing waters of the river and  
inspected her reflection.  
  
She looked just like a boy. Perfect.  
  
* * *  
  
The Amazon was still waiting obediently at the trunk of the old oak tree  
that held her master, looking upwards with a hopeful look upon her face as  
Ukyo emerged from the foliage. Ukyo shook her head. Shampoo was obviously  
strong, capable, and intelligent in her own right, and yet she continued to  
serve as Ranma's lackey, seemingly gratefully.  
  
She wondered, for a moment, what Shampoo would do without a master to  
serve. Perhaps the Amazon simply needed to be told what to do. From what  
little she had learned of the girl, it seemed that Shampoo had been  
instructed from a very young age by her great-grandmother. She seemed to  
lack any sort of independence whatsoever.  
  
"Any word?" Ukyo asked as she neared the tree's trunk.  
  
"No," Shampoo replied. She glanced down for a moment, a quizzical look  
passing over her face as she noted Ukyo's change in appearance. "Why girl  
want to dress like boy?"  
  
"There are people in Edo I'd rather avoid," Ukyo replied, with a nonchalant  
shrug of her shoulders. There was no reason to tell this girl any part of  
her plans. They were none of Shampoo's concern.  
  
Shampoo seemed almost ready with another question when the leaves overhead  
rustled loudly, distracting her - much to Ukyo's relief.  
  
Ranma dropped from the branches, twisting her body gracefully as she fell,  
landing with a soft thump upon the grass. She quickly straightened, the  
fairly sizable fall leaving her seemingly no worse for wear. Ukyo glanced  
upwards, wondering just how far Ranma had fallen. This girl had obviously  
spent a lot of time training in order to recover from such a long fall so  
easily.  
  
"That's definitely Edo," Ranma said, answering the obvious question before  
it could be asked. "It's changed a lot in the last few years, but that's  
definitely it."  
  
"Excellent," Ukyo said, her reaction far less enthusiastic than Shampoo's  
excited clapping. "How far away is it?"  
  
"Not far. A few hours' hike. We should make it today if we leave now,"  
Ranma replied. She raised an eyebrow as she looked Ukyo up and down.  
"What's with the outfit?"  
  
"Like I said before," Ukyo replied with a sigh, "there are people in Edo  
I'd rather avoid."  
  
"I ... see," Ranma replied, obviously curious, but willing to let the  
matter drop. She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I guess  
nobody would recognise you as a boy."  
  
She shrugged her shoulders. "Come on, let's get going. If we go now we  
might make it there before the sun sets."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Ukyo agreed. She turned to leave, pausing as she  
noticed Ranma was not following. The girl stood still, staring up at the  
sky overhead. "Are you coming, or not?"  
  
"Sorry," Ranma replied. "It's just ... I used to watch the sun set between  
these hills on the horizon. I remember sitting for hours with Kayoko just  
watching the sun go down and the stars come out. It's been so long, I  
never thought I'd see those hills again. I'm ... home."  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo looked back and forth at the sprawling collection of huts that made up  
the village of Edo. They could see the whole village from their vantage  
point. While not the largest village they had come across, it was not  
small at all. She could see people moving back and forth between the  
buildings, conducting whatever business remained at the end of the day.  
The sun was setting slowly behind her, casting its rays over her shoulders  
to give buildings and villagers alike long, slanted shadows.  
  
Wispy trails of smoke rose from almost every hut, lending the village a  
warm, peaceful appearance that set her on edge. How could he live in such  
a peaceful place? How could she kill him amid all these innocent people?  
  
"Is so quiet," Shampoo said, breaking the silence as well as Ukyo's  
concentration.  
  
"Wonderful, isn't it?" Ranma said, a happy sigh trailing her words. "I'd  
forgotten how beautiful this place is. It's much larger than I remember."  
  
"Let's go," Ukyo said, her voice grim. If she was going to do this, she  
was going to do it tonight. There was no turning back now.  
  
* * *  
  
"Where is everyone?" Ukyo asked, glancing back and forth.  
  
The village was quiet, save for the endless chirping of insects. Other  
than the occasional villager, the streets were empty. Invariably, the  
people who caught sight of them eyed them with apprehension and quickly  
shuffled off in another direction from the strange new visitors.  
  
A variety of ramshackle houses surrounded them, loosely arranged into a  
circular pattern, its epicentre located where they were standing. The  
dwellings were, by and large, all roughly the same size, in roughly the  
same state of disrepair. There was a hint of sickness that hung in the  
air, an intangible sense that something was out of place within the  
village.  
  
"This isn't right," Ranma observed. "This isn't how I remember home. I  
don't recognise anyone."  
  
"Ten years will do that," Ukyo suggested. "In this world the only constant  
is change."  
  
"Nowhere changes this much in ten years," Ranma said, shaking her head.  
"There's something wrong."  
  
"Shampoo think this is nice place, Master," Shampoo offered, trying to lift  
her master's spirits. "Is nice home."  
  
A young boy rounded a nearby hut and stopped in his tracks as he caught  
sight of the trio of girls. He stared for but a moment before darting off  
in the opposite direction.  
  
"Wait!" Ranma called, but the boy was long gone. "Come back!"  
  
"They don't seem to like outsiders very much, do they?" Ukyo asked,  
glancing to Ranma.  
  
"I don't understand," Ranma replied, turning in place to look around the  
empty village. "This is a fishing village. Traders come and go all the  
time. These people ought to be used to visitors."  
  
"We hardly look like traders," Ukyo pointed out. "Maybe they just don't  
like strangers."  
  
"I guess not," Ranma said, with a sigh. "This isn't how I remember it at  
all."  
  
The trio stood for a time, Ranma growing increasingly morose and Shampoo  
increasingly worried about her master. Ukyo sighed; she did not have time  
for this. At least Ranma -had- a home, that was better than nothing. Ukyo  
had never known what it was like to have a comfortable home - for as long  
as she could remember she had been on the road.  
  
Shampoo gave Ukyo a plaintive glance; it was obvious the Amazon wanted to  
lift her master's spirits, but did not know how. With a roll of her eyes,  
Ukyo set about changing the subject. She did not empathise with Ranma in  
any real sense, but the sooner the girl stopped sulking the sooner they  
could continue their journey.  
  
"So where does this ... Kayoko, is it? Where does she live?" she asked,  
attempting a distraction.  
  
"Near the south edge of the village," Ranma replied, lifting one arm to  
point. "At least, she did the last time I was here."  
  
A window of opportunity presented itself to Ukyo, and she eagerly leaped  
through. Ranma did not need Ukyo to lift her spirits; she had her little  
slave-girl for that purpose. No, Ukyo's task was far more important, and  
she did not want Ranma to see what she had to do.  
  
"Then this is where our paths separate," Ukyo said. "My business lies to  
the north."  
  
"What? You're leaving?" Ranma asked, obviously taken aback by the  
suddenness of Ukyo's declaration.  
  
"I'll probably be in town for a couple of days at most," Ukyo replied with  
a nod. "Then I'm going back to Okinawa. I have no reason to stay here."  
  
"Just like that, huh?" Ranma asked. "I thought you'd stick with us longer  
than this."  
  
"I'm tied to no one," Ukyo replied, casting a brief glance in Shampoo's  
direction. "But I'm sure we'll meet again some day."  
  
"I hope so. It's kinda nice to have friends for a change," Ranma said, a  
smile coming to her face as her worries were momentarily forgotten.  
  
Ukyo smiled at Ranma's shift in mood. Perhaps she had helped out a little  
after all. "Thanks again for rescuing me from those soldiers."  
  
"Heh. You're welcome," Ranma replied, a smirk lighting her features. She  
extended her hand toward Ukyo. "You're really a free spirit, Ukyo. It was  
... nice knowing ya."  
  
"You too, Ranma. You're a good person, and that's a rare thing these  
days," Ukyo said, holding her hand toward Ranma. "Good luck with your  
journey."  
  
"Goodbye," Ranma replied, shaking the offered hand. "Until we meet again."  
  
* * *  
  
The house stood before her, illuminated by the light of the rising moon, a  
dusty ruin that had fallen prey to the ravages of time. It looked to be  
falling apart, rickety wood holding together only by the narrowest of  
margins. The roof had partially caved in, allowing years of rain to enter  
through the gaping hole. The building was covered in filth, years of  
neglect having taken an obvious toll.  
  
Ukyo sighed; it seemed the residence had long since been abandoned. If he  
did not live here, where did he live? How could she track him down with no  
idea of where to begin?  
  
Deciding that a clue might be contained inside, she stepped toward the  
house. It was little more than a hut, a hovel. The front door was, she  
imagined, once made of sturdy wood, but all that remained were a few  
splintered planks that rattled back and forth against a rickety frame.  
Pushing the door aside, she stepped inside.  
  
The room was dank and dusty, the fetid air heavy with moisture. A large  
puddle lurked in one corner, the continuous dripping of water from the  
thatched roof helping it to grow. One day, it would expand and consume the  
entire house, sinking it into the bog. Much like a starving prisoner  
destined for execution, the house was sallow and sunken, its will to live  
abandoned as it sat silently, awaiting the inevitable.  
  
There was very little to speak of inside the house; a small table at its  
centre rocked back and forth in the wind on a split leg, the wood  
quietly complaining with each gust. A rotten pile of fabric lay near one  
wall, half-submerged in the greenish puddle. Perhaps it was once used to  
sleep on; now its only purpose was to feed the mould that grew upon it.  
  
On the far wall, however, was something that immediately grabbed her  
attention. A sword hung against the wall, lit by the thin beams of  
moonlight that pushed their way through the ever-thinning roof. It was a  
simple, slightly-curved sword contained within an unusual scabbard. The  
top half of the scabbard, near the hilt, was covered in an ornate, curved  
design engraved into the metal; the lower half, however, was left  
completely bare.  
  
Ukyo felt a strange feeling of familiarity; she knew this sword. She  
remembered it from ... somewhere. The details fluttered inside her mind,  
dancing out of her reach no matter how insistently she tried to grasp them.  
Her curiosity was overwhelming; she stepped to the sword and pulled it down  
from its resting place.  
  
She expected the sword to be stuck inside its scabbard, judging by the  
moisture in the house - but much to her surprise it slid easily free. It  
was a simple sword, forged from strong metal, unremarkable in every way; if  
not for the scabbard she may well have overlooked it entirely. Even so,  
there was something about the sword that called to her, that spoke to her  
most distant memories.  
  
I know this sword's name, she thought. I've seen this sword before ...  
I've touched it before.  
  
Lofting the weapon, she examined the tempered blade with wide eyes; it was  
in immaculate condition, the sharpened edge glimmering dangerously beneath  
the waxing light of the moon.  
  
I remember you, she thought as she examined the sword. She gently guided  
it around her in a gentle swing, loosening and tightening her grip upon it.  
  
It was light, swift and beautiful to behold, her sword-hand feeling utterly  
at ease wielding the weapon. Her fingers curved around the handle  
instinctively, remembering of their own accord the best grip to use.  
  
I've held you before, she decided, nodding her head as she brought the tip  
to the scabbard and slowly slid the weapon home. It fell into place easily  
and she held up the scabbard, resting it across both hands. A flash of  
recollection illuminated her mind; she did not come here merely to kill  
him. She had come for the sword, as well.  
  
I know you. Your name is Seriatim, isn't it?  
  
* * *  
  
"What do we do when we find this Kayoko, Master?" Shampoo asked, falling  
back to her native Chinese.  
  
"I don't know," Ranma replied, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Pops told  
me to find her, he didn't say what I was s'posed to do after that."  
  
"I remember," Shampoo said with a nod, remembering the conversations they  
had had regarding the Kayoko girl at the outset of their journey. "It  
wasn't a very specific wish, was it?"  
  
"To be honest, I'm kinda hoping she'll know what he wanted," Ranma said.  
"Pops used to talk to her mother quite a bit after her father died. I  
never really found out what they used to talk about, but I'm guessing it  
has something to do with why I'm here right now."  
  
"Your father was an unusual man," Shampoo observed. She immediately  
snapped her hand over her mouth and glanced, wide-eyed, at Ranma. "I'm  
sorry, Master, I didn't mean to offend you."  
  
"Heh. Don't worry about it," Ranma replied with a smirk. "He always used  
to go off on training journeys, even before I was born. I'm sure he's seen  
all sorts of things that he didn't tell me about. You're right - he was  
pretty unusual."  
  
"I think all men are unusual," Shampoo said, shaking her head.  
  
"You're an Amazon, you're supposed to think that," Ranma replied,  
chuckling. She gestured to her chest. "Don't forget, though, I'm a man  
under all this."  
  
"Please don't remind me," Shampoo replied with a grimace. She glanced  
around, obviously eager to change the subject. "Does Kayoko live nearby,  
Master?"  
  
"I think so," Ranma said, glancing back and forth. The area looked  
familiar; while new huts had sprung up since the last time she was around,  
she was fairly sure they were heading in the right direction. "I think she  
lives just a little further along this street."  
  
She paused, and glanced at the houses that were nearby. They were in  
various states of dereliction - some seemed ready to fall over with the  
slightest gust of wind, others were home to circling swarms of insects;  
most were caked in layers of mud. No matter how quiet the village seemed  
at that moment, it was obvious that a lot of people came and went on a  
daily basis, in order to make such a mess. Her memories were of a small,  
peaceful village, not this sprawling, inflamed township.  
  
"This place was pretty small when I left. Sure, we had traders coming and  
going every now and then, but it wasn't as large as it is now. I guess  
Ukyo was right - ten years really does make a difference. I hope Kayoko  
still lives in the same place."  
  
"What about your house? Is it near here too, Master?"  
  
"My house?" Ranma asked, resuming her walk down the lane. She smiled, and  
let out a short laugh. "I'd almost forgotten about it. No; it's on the  
other side of the village. I suppose I should go and see how it's holding  
up."  
  
"Aren't you curious?" Shampoo asked, a surprised tone to her voice.  
  
"Not really," Ranma admitted with a shrug. "Even when I lived in this  
place I didn't spend much time at home. I was always busy training, or  
running errands for Pops - when he was around, that is. I spent more time  
at Kayoko's house than at mine. I barely remember what my own house looks  
like."  
  
Shampoo sank into a thoughtful silence as the pair continued their journey  
along the muddy way. Ranma walked alongside her, content with the lack of  
conversation. She thought back to the last time she had seen Kayoko; a  
little over ten years to the day. They had both been so young then. Ranma  
herself had changed a great deal - more than she ever would have imagined -  
and she couldn't help but wonder if Kayoko had gone through similar  
changes.  
  
She glanced down at herself, and let out a sigh. She doubted Kayoko would  
understand some of the changes she had been through. Still, she reasoned,  
she had made a promise to her father, and she wasn't about to let something  
as small as utter humiliation before her oldest friend get in the way of  
her promise.  
  
She thought back to her youth, to the days before her journey began, when  
she was but an innocent child. Kayoko was the only friend she had - they  
spent all their time together, and when they were apart they passed the  
time by plotting what their next adventure would bring. In those carefree  
days, there was no indication of the changes her life would bring. Her  
life was simple, normal - until the day Genma decided to take her away from  
it all.  
  
The long grass of Kayoko's garden gave way to the unending mud, grit and  
stone of endless roads, mountains and forests; the warm oak of her home's  
floor was replaced by the cold stone of hundreds of dojos and training  
grounds. The warmth of Kayoko's hand was forced aside by the stinging  
blows of her father's fists. It had -all- changed.  
  
It was all so long ago, buried beneath an age of hardship and sacrifice;  
she felt as though she should barely remember it but each memory remained  
in her mind as clear as the day she had experienced it. The Tendo's home  
was little more than a large hut, but to her youthful eyes it was a palace,  
a captivating mansion full of secrets to be explored, its occupants the  
closest thing she had to a real family.  
  
Life was simple then; a warm sunset and a smile on Kayoko's face made  
Ranma, the little boy, happy. There was no reason for him to worry - there  
was nothing in that boy's world but the sunset and her smile. The two of  
them would sit and watch for hours, each silently wondering what lay beyond  
the endless red horizon, their only company each other and an  
all-encompassing sense of wonder.  
  
Now, a decade later, Ranma gazed upon that same house before that same  
horizon. Her eyes were jaded by years of suffering and loneliness, the  
mysteries she had pondered as a child long ago answered. But, despite it  
all, despite the harsh reality of the world she had imagined, that house  
still shone with an intangible joy.  
  
Ranma swallowed, and came to a halt. She stared for a moment at the  
building, a brief time of silent appreciation. Her heart skipped a beat as  
for a mere second she dared to hope that this house might still be the  
home she remembered. Or had it fallen into disrepair and disarray along  
with the rest of Edo?  
  
"This is it," she said, turning to Shampoo. "We're here."  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo sat silently upon a small stone near the street, absentmindedly  
stroking a fingertip along the handle of her newly-acquired sword. She  
glanced back and forth along the street, but the moonlight showed little  
but shadows. She sighed, and glanced up to the sky. How would she find  
him now? Edo was the only link she had.  
  
But not any more, she realised, lowering her gaze to the sword in her  
hands. This sword was his; perhaps it could lead her to him. She could  
feel that somehow, this sword and her target were related. She frowned,  
her efforts to recall exactly where she had seen the sword before producing  
no results.  
  
A slight rustling noise jolted her out of her thoughts; she leaped to her  
feet, drawing her new weapon as she tried to make out the source of the  
noise.  
  
An old man emerged from the darkness, the rustling noise revealing itself  
to be the sound of his feet shuffling through the long grass that protruded  
from the muddy street. He jumped in fright as he caught sight of Ukyo, and  
more importantly the sword that was pointed directly at him.  
  
"Who ... who are you?" he asked shakily, wide eyes focused directly upon  
the sword.  
  
Ukyo looked him up and down, relaxing her grip upon her sword as she  
realised he posed no threat. He was a short, stooped old man, his  
stumbling walk only made possible by the crooked tree branch he used to  
support himself. A long grey beard stretched down from his wrinkled face,  
almost to his knees. He peered at her from beneath a ragged straw hat, his  
eyes sharp despite their age.  
  
"Nobody important, old man," Ukyo said with a sigh as she sheathed the  
sword. She noticed a look of surprise upon the man's face; scolding her  
mistake, she made a conscious effort to lower the tone of her voice. "It's  
dangerous for someone like you to be out wandering at night."  
  
"Is that so, boy?" the man asked, watching the sword disappear into its  
scabbard. He visibly calmed a little, and peered inquisitively at Ukyo.  
"I walk home from Jiro's house every night, nobody has ever told me it's  
dangerous before; especially not a stranger standing outside an abandoned  
house."  
  
"You know about this house?" Ukyo asked, her curiosity immediately piqued.  
  
"Of course," the man replied. He raised a hand and pointed at a nearby  
house. "I've lived nearby for years."  
  
"Then perhaps you can help me," Ukyo said, eyeing the man carefully. "I'm  
looking for Genma Saotome."  
  
* * *  
  
A simple curtain of woven fabric hung across the open doorway of the Tendo  
family home. It was certainly the largest home in the village, and in a  
far better condition than any other home Ranma had seen. The walls were  
clean of mud and grime; it was obvious that this house was looked after and  
carefully maintained.  
  
"Hello? Is anybody home?" Ranma called out, rapping loudly on the outer  
wall of the house. She leaned into the open doorway, straining to hear  
through the curtain any sign that her call had been heard. "Hello?"  
  
There was no response; the interior of the house remained absolutely  
silent. Ranma frowned, and glanced at Shampoo, who simply shrugged.  
Reaching out, Ranma pressed her palm against the curtain, but halted  
herself before she could pull it aside. It would be rude to enter  
uninvited, she reasoned, but then she wasn't about to give up and go home  
just because nobody answered her call.  
  
"Perhaps nobody is here," Shampoo suggested at length. "What should we  
do?"  
  
"She wouldn't be anywhere else at this time of night," Ranma replied  
grimly. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"  
  
Again, there was no response. Ranma straightened, scratching her chin  
thoughtfully. If Kayoko was not in the Tendo family home, where would she  
be? Assuming that the house was still her home, she should have been  
inside.  
  
"Should we look inside, Master?" Shampoo asked, leaning forward alongside  
Ranma to peer into the darkened interior of the house through a small gap  
between the curtain and doorway.  
  
"I will. I want you to wait near the road," Ranma replied. This was a  
moment she had been anticipating for years, and as well-natured as  
Shampoo's intentions were, she wanted to be alone. Gesturing with her hand  
to silence Shampoo's inevitable request to follow her, she stepped forward  
into the doorway. "I'll be back soon. Keep your eyes open. I don't want  
to be disturbed."  
  
* * *  
  
"Genma Saotome, you say? Yes, that used to be his house, a long time ago."  
  
"What happened?" Ukyo asked, turning to look at the house in question.  
  
"He left, years ago. Said he was going on some sort of training journey.  
Never did say when he was coming back."  
  
"Obviously, he hasn't made it yet," Ukyo observed, a frown darkening her  
face. "You said he left years ago?"  
  
"That's right," the old man replied with a nod. He slowly pulled off his  
hat and smoothed down the matted grey hair beneath. "They left ... well,  
it would be at least ten years ago now, if I remember rightly."  
  
"They?"  
  
"Genma and his son," the man replied with a nod, returning his hat to its  
perch atop his head. "Poor boy was just a child. I don't know what got  
into Genma, to convince him it was a good idea to drag a little boy off to  
who knows where."  
  
"What?" Ukyo asked, startled. "Genma had a -son-?"  
  
* * *  
  
The room was completely obscured by darkness, the pale light of the moon  
held at bay by the thick material covering the doorway. Ranma stood still  
for some time, letting the details resolve as her eyes adjusted. Tatami  
mats lined the floor, but the room was otherwise bare. It was strange -  
Ranma distinctly remembered a table set upon the centre of the room, a  
small chest in one corner, a roughly-hewn bed roll in another.  
  
Now the room was empty, holding nothing more than a strangely  
claustrophobic atmosphere and a frosty moisture upon the air. Ranma licked  
her lips, curious; the moisture in the air was palpable, almost as if the  
room were underwater. It was a distinctly unsettling sensation, one that  
sent a cascade of goosebumps tumbling down her back, carrying with them a  
shiver that ran down her body to the floor.  
  
There's something wrong, she thought, not daring to look away. She could  
feel something with her, a chill presence that danced around the edges of  
the room, weaving through the depths of the shadows yet remaining unseen.  
Instinctively, her hand found its way to the warmth of her sword.  
  
The ambiguous chill resolved the instant she touched her sword; the  
omnipresent frost resolved itself to a sharp line across the back of her  
neck, paralysing her body with its icy touch.  
  
"Don't move," a female voice commanded. Ranma swallowed and managed not  
to nod, keenly aware of just how sharp the item pressing against her skin  
truly was. How on earth had her attacker appeared out of nowhere? She  
gave no sign of her presence, no forewarning of her attack. Despite the  
stillness of her body, her mind worked at a frantic pace to try and  
understand just what had happened.  
  
"Forward. Now."  
  
Her instincts compelled her to reach for her sword and strike back at her  
assailant, to do -something-, but somehow she could not force herself to do  
so. So, powerless, she did as she was told and shuffled forward.  
  
"On your knees," the voice commanded, pausing as Ranma complied. Once she  
was in place, a question filled the room. "Who are you, and what are you  
doing in my home?"  
  
* * *  
  
"That's right, he had a little boy," the old man confirmed with a nod. "He  
was a nice child. Always seemed to be hurrying around the place helping  
people out. He didn't spend much time at home, but he always said hello  
when he was here."  
  
"That's not possible," Ukyo insisted, shaking her head. How on earth could  
that be? Genma? A son? It wasn't possible ... was it? "Who was the  
mother?"  
  
"Now, that, I don't know," the man replied. "I wanted to ask, but I didn't  
want to be rude. I honestly have no idea."  
  
Ukyo frowned, digesting the new information. Discounting the whys and  
hows, she focused on what this really meant to her. If Genma had a son,  
that presented her with another opportunity to find him. It was easier to  
find one of two people than one person alone. Not much, but any help was  
better than none.  
  
"What was his son's name?"  
  
"Hmm?" the man replied, a curious look on his face. "The boy was called  
Ranma; why do you ask?"  
  
* * *  
  
"This is the Tendo home," Ranma said, staring straight ahead. She could  
feel the eyes of her captor burning into the back of her head, and as much  
as she wanted to turn around, she knew she would regret it. "Or at least  
it was. I came here to find Kayoko."  
  
"How do you know that name?!" the voice demanded, filling the room twice  
over, its force reverberating within the walls of the small room.  
  
"I've known her for years," Ranma explained. "My father sent me to find  
her."  
  
"You're lying!" the voice boomed, seeming to make the walls shake. "I do  
not know you!"  
  
"Kayoko?" Ranma asked, turning her head to look behind her, despite  
herself. She felt the sharp edge cut into her neck, and the warm trickle  
of blood down her back. "Is that you, Kayoko?"  
  
A short gust of wind caught the curtain hanging at the entrance, strong  
enough to send the fabric tumbling from its restraints to the floor; just  
as quickly as it had come, the wind vanished. Ranma squinted as a shaft of  
moonlight burst into the room, covering the floor between them. The  
silhouette of her attacker stepped forward into the light.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked, pointing her sword directly at Ranma's neck.  
  
Ranma's eyes widened as the girl stepped into the light; before her stood  
the girl of her memories, her childhood best friend and closest companion,  
Kayoko Tendo. Her childish frame had been replaced by the body of a young  
woman, the innocent face of a little girl replaced by the wild-eyed stare  
of a troubled adult.  
  
Ranma stared, slack-jawed, for what seemed like an instant but must have  
been far longer; she jumped as she felt the sharp prick of Kayoko's sword  
tip pressing against her skin. She blinked a couple of times, trying to  
shake off the intense feeling of amazement that had taken her and regain  
her composure.  
  
"I'm Ranma Saotome."  
  
* * *  
  
"Ranma? Ranma Saotome?"  
  
"That's right," the old man replied with a nod. "He disappeared along with  
his father and I haven't seen him since."  
  
Ranma? Ukyo clasped her hand to her mouth, the sudden realisation that she  
had been travelling with the child of her target all the way across Japan  
hitting her like a punch to the face. She had felt a sense of familiarity  
the moment she met Ranma; now, as she realised the cause, it all seemed so  
obvious to her. How could she have allowed a simple gender change to fool  
her so completely? Such a trick was easily within Genma's ability.  
  
"Thank you," Ukyo said, her mind numbed. She turned from the man and began  
slowly walking back the way she had come. Ranma had even told her of a  
ten-year training journey she had undertaken with her father. A more  
blatant clue was hard to imagine.  
  
How could she not have seen it? How could she have been so blind?  
  
* * *  
  
"You are not Ranma!" Kayoko insisted, stepping closer. She leaned down and  
peered carefully at Ranma. Her hair, once brown but now bright, vibrant  
blue, streamed down over her shoulders and tumbled to the floor below.  
  
"What happened to you, 'yoko?" Ranma asked, peering intently at the girl's  
face. The face of her childhood friend lurked behind the wild-eyed stare  
and panicked voice of this girl. "Where is Satoko?"  
  
"Mother is ... dead," Kayoko replied, the resonant boom of her voice  
crumbling into a tiny, timid whisper. She glanced away into the darkness,  
but her sword did not waver. "She returned to the waters a long time ago."  
  
"Dead?" Ranma asked, the news catching her off guard. She clasped her hand  
over her mouth as Kayoko solemnly nodded.  
  
She had never known her own mother; as far as she could recall, her family  
had always simply been Genma and Ranma, father and son. In many ways  
Kayoko's mother was a surrogate parent. Satoko, as she had insisted Ranma  
call her, was a kind woman who took the young Saotome boy under her wing  
and instilled within him her own sense of responsibility and respect. A  
far cry from the reckless abandon of Genma, it was, ironically, Satoko's  
teachings that now guided Ranma down the path laid before her by her  
father.  
  
The possibility that Satoko might not have survived ten years had never  
even crossed Ranma's mind; as a child she had imagined the woman to be  
everlasting and eternal, just as she had her father. Now, she realised,  
both of them were gone.  
  
"How do you know of my mother?" Kayoko challenged, the ferocity returning  
to her voice.  
  
"You and I used to sit outside in the garden and watch the sun set over the  
mountains. We used to play in the forest, and one time we went walking for  
hours to find a cave that Pops told me about. We wandered out for nearly  
a whole day, and once we found it we spent the whole night exploring it.  
Satoko was furious with us when we finally came home, because she had spent  
the whole time looking for us."  
  
"How do you ...." Kayoko stammered, her eyes widening.  
  
"We went back to that cave every day for nearly two weeks," Ranma  
continued, gazing through the open door at the shadowed mountain line  
beyond the village. "We'd spend every afternoon looking around inside."  
  
"I remember," Kayoko said softly, slowly lowering her sword, a beautifully  
crafted blade that seemed to shimmer, translucent in the moonlight, to the  
floor. "I remember that cave."  
  
"It was full of pools, remember? You dared me to see how long I could hold  
my breath, and so I dived into one, but when I came up for air you were  
gone. I spent hours searching for you, and finally I had to give up and  
come home. I was terrified, because I thought your mother would kill me  
for losing you."  
  
"But I came straight home," Kayoko interrupted, the light of recognition  
burning in her eyes. "I told mother and Kurumi all about it, and they  
agreed to help me play a joke on you."  
  
"That's right," Ranma continued, a smile coming to her face as she  
remembered Kayoko's younger sister. "I was scared to death, and she was so  
angry at me, but then you and Kurumi jumped out behind me, and both of you  
started laughing."  
  
"You were so angry!" Kayoko said, lowering herself to one knee. "You  
didn't even want to talk to me."  
  
"And then a couple of days later Pops dragged me off on our trip," Ranma  
said, clutching her hands together as the strength left her voice. "I  
didn't even say goodbye."  
  
"You're right, you didn't. I thought you'd gone forever," Kayoko replied,  
tilting her head, peering at Ranma's face. "Is it really you, Ranma?"  
  
"It's me, 'yoko," Ranma replied, as calmly as she could manage. "Please ...  
believe me. Inside this stupid body, it's me."  
  
Kayoko slowly, hesitantly raised one hand to Ranma's cheek, a puzzled look  
crossing her face as she curled her fingers around Ranma's face. Ranma  
stayed still, letting Kayoko's cool fingers drift across her skin.  
  
"It really is you," Kayoko whispered, her eyes glistening with moisture as  
she launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Ranma. "You came  
back!"  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo knelt and pressed her fingertips to the small set of footprints that  
marked the muddy path before her. Unlike the others that marked the  
ground, these footprints were surrounded by soft, fresh mud.  
  
"Got you," she said to herself as she quickly stood and started jogging  
alongside them.  
  
* * *  
  
"You've been gone so long," Kayoko said, her head buried in Ranma's  
shoulder. "I thought you were never coming back. Where is your father?"  
  
"He's ... dead," Ranma said, her body stiffening at his mention.  
  
"What?!" Kayoko exclaimed, jolting backwards. She held Ranma at arm's  
length and looked directly at her. "That can't be!"  
  
"It's the truth," Ranma replied, glancing down at the floor. "He was  
killed in China."  
  
"Oh, gods, that must mean ... let me see your hair," Kayoko said, grabbing  
the sides of Ranma's head and, before she could protest, yanking it  
downwards.  
  
"Hey!" Ranma yelped, struggling a little against Kayoko's firm grip. She  
winced as Kayoko yanked at her hair, running her fingers through its roots  
in a rough examination.  
  
"So it is red," Kayoko said quietly, releasing Ranma's head. She slumped,  
deflated, and gathered her face into her hands. "Why did it have to be  
you, Ranma?"  
  
"It started turning red a while ago," Ranma said, puzzled. She looked  
up at Kayoko, curious. "How did you know about it?"  
  
"Why didn't you tell me, Ryukyu?" Kayoko asked, her voice muffled. "Why  
didn't you tell me you'd taken my friend? Why couldn't you have taken  
someone else?"  
  
"What on Earth are you talking about?" Ranma asked, growing increasingly  
confused. "Who is Ryukyu?"  
  
"You don't know?" Kayoko asked, wide eyes emerging from her hands, carrying  
a look of genuine surprise. She gasped, and threw her hands to Ranma's  
shoulders. "Do you still have the tooth?"  
  
"Tooth?" Ranma asked, struggling to think as Kayoko shook her by the  
shoulders. A sharp chill ran through her whole body, making her shiver  
involuntarily.  
  
"The sword -- your father's sword, Garyoutensei!"  
  
"Of course," Ranma replied as realisation struck. She shook off Kayoko's  
hands and looked the girl directly in the eye. "I wouldn't lose my  
father's sword. He told me to guard it. How do you know about it?"  
  
"Did you tell anyone about it? Did anyone follow you here?" Kayoko asked,  
brushing aside Ranma's question. "Is it still a secret?"  
  
"What's going on?" Ranma asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Why all  
the questions?"  
  
"Tell me!" Kayoko demanded. "Were you followed?"  
  
"Well, I travelled here with Shampoo ...."  
  
"Who is she? Where is she?"  
  
"She's a ... friend of mine. She's waiting outside, where I told her to."  
  
"Do you trust her?"  
  
"Of course I trust her."  
  
* * *  
  
Shampoo leaned back against an old tree, idly shifting back and forth to  
let the rough bark scratch across her back. She yawned, watching with  
interest the appearance of her breath upon the chill air, a small puff of  
condensation that drifted away on the night's breeze. She pondered, for  
a moment, just how cold this night was; she did not recall any other night  
being quite as chilly as this one.  
  
Sighing, she shrugged off her idle ponderance and wondered how much longer  
Ranma was going to be. She felt an almost instinctive worry whenever  
she was out of sight of her master. It was her sole remaining duty to  
protect and accompany Ranma; the thought of losing her was intensely  
troubling. Still, her master's wishes were to be obeyed, no matter what  
her feelings were about them.  
  
A glimmer of movement caught the edge of her vision, and she turned her  
head to look at it. It was a small, blurry object, its features obscured  
by the depths of night, only the vaguest details visible under the weak  
light of the moon. Peering intently at it, Shampoo wondered just what it  
was.  
  
* * *  
  
"Anyone else?" Kayoko asked, her stare losing none of its intensity as it  
bored into Ranma's eyes.  
  
"Not really," Ranma replied with a shrug. She narrowed her eyes and  
glanced thoughtfully at Kayoko, still unsure why so many questions were  
being asked. "Well, we helped out a girl on the way, and she came with us  
to Edo--"  
  
"What was her name?" Kayoko snapped, interrupting.  
  
"Ukyo."  
  
"Ukyo ... what?"  
  
* * *  
  
The object was larger now, much larger, its repetitive motion slowly  
resolving into a form that bore a worrying similarity to that of a person  
running. Shampoo slowly raised her hand toward one of the arrows in the  
quiver slung across her back, but quickly changed her mind and lowered her  
hand to her sword.  
  
If it was indeed a person their intentions might be entirely benign, but in  
the dim light she would not be sure until they were far too close for an  
arrow to be effective.  
  
"Shampoo!"  
  
The word took Shampoo by surprise - she recognised that voice. That voice  
belonged to Ukyo. Releasing her sword, she turned and took a step toward  
the voice.  
  
"Ukyo? Is you?" she called in Japanese. Why was Ukyo in such a hurry?  
Was she after someone? Or running away from someone?  
  
"It's me," Ukyo called out, her heavy panting becoming apparent as she  
drew closer. Her running slowed, until she finally came to a stop in front  
of Shampoo. "Where is Ranma?"  
  
"Master is in house," Shampoo explained warily. "Why boy-girl in big  
rush?"  
  
* * *  
  
"Kuonji?" Kayoko exclaimed, snatching her sword from the ground as she  
jumped to her feet with startling suddenness. "Are you sure?"  
  
"I think so," Ranma replied, her own nervousness growing as she saw  
Kayoko's agitation.  
  
"It's important! Are you -sure-?"  
  
"Yes!" Ranma insisted, climbing to her feet. She folded her arms, and  
stared Kayoko down. "What is this all about?"  
  
"We have to get out of here," Kayoko said, eyeing Ranma intensely. Her  
eyes shone with that same wildness Ranma had seen before; the fierce  
intensity boomed anew within her voice. She grabbed Ranma's wrist and  
pulled. "Right now."  
  
"Out of your house?" Ranma asked, utterly confused as Kayoko yanked her  
forwards. What the hell was going on here?  
  
"Out of Edo. Out of Musashi," Kayoko replied, shaking her head. "Out of  
Japan."  
  
* * *  
  
"I have to talk to Ranma right now," Ukyo said, moving to step past  
Shampoo.  
  
Shampoo, however, stepped into Ukyo's path, holding out one hand. "Master  
tell Shampoo to let nobody past. Master no want visitor."  
  
"I don't care what she said, I have to talk to her," Ukyo said, her voice  
growing agitated.  
  
"No can do," Shampoo insisted, folding her arms and shaking her head.  
"Boy-girl must wait."  
  
"I can't wait," Ukyo said, growing angrier. "Get out of my way."  
  
Shampoo noticed Ukyo's arm move; she glanced downwards and blinked in  
surprise as she saw a sword in a scabbard tied to Ukyo's hip. The girl had  
no sword when they arrived in Edo; where did she get it?  
  
* * *  
  
"She is dangerous. Very dangerous. If she hasn't attacked you yet, she  
mustn't realise who you are. That means we still have a chance to get  
away," Kayoko explained, tugging insistently on Ranma's arm. "At least,  
if we hurry."  
  
"Why is she dangerous?" Ranma asked, resisting Kayoko's pull. "We saved  
her life!"  
  
"She has no life to save!" Kayoko boomed, grabbing Ranma's shoulders  
firmly. "Why don't you understand, Ryukyu? You're supposed to know this!"  
  
"Know what? And why the hell do you keep calling me Ryukyu?" Ranma asked,  
growing angry. Why was Kayoko acting like this? What was going on?  
  
"You are host to the dragon Ryukyu! Didn't Genma tell you about the sword?  
About the dragons? About the thief?"  
  
"No!" Ranma yelled, her anger getting the better of her. "He didn't tell  
me anything!"  
  
"Why on Earth not?"  
  
"I don't know," Ranma replied angrily. "I'd ask him, but he's -dead-,  
remember?"  
  
The loud clash of steel on steel filled the room, causing both Ranma and  
Kayoko to jump. Kayoko was a blur - one moment she was standing before  
Ranma; the next, she was at the doorway with her sword in hand. A moment  
of silence hung in the air, both Kayoko and Ranma waiting, straining to  
hear what sound might follow.  
  
When the silence was broken a moment later, it was a scream that filled the  
air; a high-pitched, panic-filled scream that propelled Ranma instantly to  
the doorway.  
  
"That was Shampoo!"  
  
* * *  
  
Ranma dashed through the doorway, along the short path to the muddy street  
where Ukyo stood, breathing heavily as she leaned over Shampoo's body. She  
looked up at Ranma's approach and quickly readied her sword, its blade  
dripping bright red blood.  
  
"Saotome! Ranma Saotome! That is your name?"  
  
Ranma slid to a halt a short distance from the tip of Ukyo's blade, staring  
in outright amazement at the girl. Her eyes darted to Shampoo, who lay  
limply, face-down in the mud.  
  
"What the hell did you do to her?!" Ranma cried, the words exploding from  
within her in an outburst of fury. "I saved your life!"  
  
"She got in my way," Ukyo said, her eyes narrowing to thin slits as she  
leveled her sword at Ranma's throat, pressing its sharpened edge firmly  
against the skin. She spoke again, quietly, icily demanding an answer.  
"Are you Genma Saotome's son? Yes, or no?"  
  
"Yes," Ranma replied, jolting to attention as she felt the sharp edge of  
Ukyo's weapon press against her. She clenched her fists, a red-hot anger  
surging through her body as she stared at Shampoo's murderer. She seethed  
with rage; the only thing preventing her from lunging at Ukyo was the  
threat of a slit throat.  
  
"I have no argument with you, Ranma. I don't want to hurt you. Your slave  
will survive, but if you don't tell me where Genma is, you won't be so  
lucky."  
  
"He's dead," Ranma spat, her words filled with venom. "You're too late."  
  
"Dead, you say?" Ukyo replied, her voice losing none of its dangerous tone.  
"So, you inherited the tooth?"  
  
"Yes," Ranma replied, recalling Kayoko's earlier words. She felt Ukyo's  
weapon shift forward slightly; the warm sensation of blood running down her  
neck made her swallow nervously. She let out a long, slow breath, and  
tried to remain still.  
  
"Then you have also inherited his fate," Ukyo said, her voice low. She  
stared directly into Ranma's eyes, and for but a moment her own eyes  
softened. "I'm sorry, Ranma. I didn't want to kill you, but I can't allow  
you to live. Not now."  
  
A pair of hands sprang into existence, two arms wrapping themselves around  
Ukyo's body, their motion so fast as to appear little more than a blur.  
There was barely time for Ukyo to gasp in surprise before she was flung  
bodily through the air, to land roughly in the mud of the street. Ranma  
jumped as she felt the motion of Ukyo's blade away from her neck, her  
surprise just as great as Ukyo's.  
  
Kayoko gave Ranma a quick nod before turning to Ukyo, who lay sprawled  
across the street. Stepping toward the girl, she raised one hand and a  
soft white light burst into existence, a small pool of light centred upon  
her opponent.  
  
Ranma stared, rooted to the spot in sheer wonder at what was transpiring  
before her, her wide eyes taking in the sights even as her mind struggled  
to comprehend them. Ukyo sat up, her eyes wide as she stared at Kayoko,  
her mouth falling open. She gasped, raising one hand to point at the  
blue-haired girl standing before her.  
  
"You ... I remember--"  
  
Her words were silenced as Kayoko waved her hand sharply upwards, causing a  
sudden rumble in the very ground below Ukyo. A burst of water sprung from  
the earth itself, a cascade of cold liquid that leapt forth from the mud  
itself, leaving dried-out dust in its wake as it splashed onto Ukyo's body.  
Before she could even blink, Kayoko snapped her fingers, and with a  
blinding flash of light, the water hardened into ice, trapping Ukyo within.  
  
Just as quickly as it had come the light disappeared, leaving Ukyo frozen  
in place, sitting and pointing directly forwards, her eyes locked in a  
vacant stare. Dust hung in the air around her, rapidly settling down on  
to the dried-out dirt below.  
  
"What the hell did you just do?" Ranma asked, utterly at a loss.  
  
"There's no time for that," Kayoko replied, hurriedly picking up Shampoo  
and slinging her over one shoulder. "Come on, we have to go!"  
  
"What did you do?" Ranma insisted, unable to take her eyes off the frozen  
form of Ukyo. "How did you do that?"  
  
"Ranma!" Kayoko yelled, her voice demanding Ranma's attention. "I took her  
by surprise this time; next time we won't be so lucky. Come on, we have to  
get out of here, now!"  
  
"O-okay," Ranma said, shaking her head back and forth as she tried to  
digest what had just happened. She glanced over at Kayoko. "What about  
Shampoo? Is she okay?"  
  
"She'll be fine. I can take care of her injuries. We have to hurry - that  
ice won't hold Kuonji forever. Come on!"  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	13. Spirit of the Storm

= = = =  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
"Spirit of the Storm"  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Ranma panted, leaning heavily against a large boulder as she tried to  
catch her breath. She had been sprinting constantly for almost three hours  
now; the moon was well underway on its journey across the sky, and she was  
utterly exhausted.  
  
"We should stop here," Kayoko announced, from the edge of a nearby pond.   
"We have some time. Even Kuonji will need some time to recover from being  
frozen. I can tend to Shampoo's wounds. They are serious, but I will be   
able to handle them."  
  
"Please do," Ranma puffed, grateful for the opportunity to rest as well as  
Kayoko's assistance with Shampoo. She was not sure how Kayoko thought she  
could help with Shampoo's wounds - she was not even sure what the wounds  
were, having not had a chance to examine the girl. It seemed that Kayoko  
understood the problem, but after Kayoko's initial assurances that Shampoo  
would be fine, barely a word had passed between them on their epic sprint.  
  
Ranma was quietly thankful for that fact; if she had tried to speak, she  
was entirely convinced her lungs would have exploded. She sank down   
against the smooth surface of the boulder and tried fruitlessly to calm her  
breath as she watched Kayoko lower Shampoo to the ground.  
  
Now that they had stopped, she was able to get a better look at both   
Shampoo, and her new companion Kayoko. The Kayoko Tendo that knelt before   
her only bore a vague resemblance to the child she had once known. They   
may well have been childhood friends, but she could easily have walked   
right past Kayoko on the street without recognising her. The face was  
similar to that of her memories, but Kayoko had truly blossomed into a  
beautiful woman in the decade that had passed between their last meeting.  
  
Shampoo was alive, but barely. How Ukyo could consider her wounds 'not  
serious', she did not know. She was worried intensely about her friend,   
but the voice of experience inside her told her to trust Kayoko, that the  
Tendo girl would somehow be able to help. It was that feeling that had  
allowed her to run for hours while Shampoo lay perched across Kayoko's  
shoulder, dripping blood with every step.   
  
Kayoko managed to sprint just as fast as Ranma, perhaps slightly faster,   
while carrying Shampoo, and did not even appear to be out of breath. She  
easily lofted Shampoo's body, and did not seem to be tired at all. As   
Ranma slowly caught her breath, she wondered just how Kayoko had become so  
fit. A decade of harsh training on the road had made Ranma extremely fit;  
how had Kayoko become so strong simply living in a fishing village?  
  
Ranma looked more closely at Shampoo as Kayoko turned to face the water.  
The dim hue of dried blood stained the Amazon's clothes and skin, a sharp  
cut along the girl's neck being the apparent source of most of the   
bleeding. She was almost entirely motionless, but Ranma could see the   
tiniest amount of movement as her chest slowly rose and fell with each   
troubled breath.  
  
She thought for a moment of Ukyo, the person she had considered a friend,  
staring at her with such evil intent in her eyes as Shampoo lay bleeding at  
her feet. Why on Earth had Ukyo attacked? They had parted on good terms;  
what had caused the sudden turnaround in behaviour? She frowned to   
herself, wondering if perhaps she had been tricked all along. Had Ukyo   
been feigning friendship in order to find Ranma's home? In order to find  
Genma?  
  
She honestly had no idea, but she suspected that Kayoko knew exactly what  
was going on. Once Shampoo was taken care of, she intended to find out.  
Kayoko seemed to greatly fear the prospect of Ukyo catching up with them,  
but a small part of Ranma wanted the traitor to catch up with them, so she  
could extract revenge. She closed her eyes and silently dared Ukyo to try  
and find her.  
  
Come and get me, Ukyo. This time I'll be ready.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ranma, I want you to help me."  
  
Kayoko sat at the edge of the pond, slowly lowering her legs to let her  
feet disappear into the water. Gently, she eased herself down into the   
water, lifting her hips and jumping in when the time was right. She  
quickly sank to waist depth, and turned to face the water's edge.  
  
"What can I do?" Ranma asked, slowly rising to her feet. They ached, and  
stung as she stepped forward across loose gravel and grass, and she winced  
despite her best efforts to ignore the pain. "How can I help?"  
  
"Pick her up, and pass her to me," Kayoko instructed, gesturing toward   
Shampoo's body. "Slowly; don't be rough with her."  
  
"Okay," Ranma agreed, and stepped over to the Amazon. She lowered herself  
to one knee and slipped one arm under the crook of Shampoo's neck; the   
other under the girl's knees. She stood, taking care to keep the body   
level as best she could.  
  
"Good. She's in pretty bad shape, so if you knock her around too much it's  
not going to help her at all," Kayoko said, taking a step backwards toward  
the centre of the pond. She winced and held up her hands as Ranma almost  
tripped upon a stray tree root. "Don't rush. She has plenty of time.   
Come toward me, lower her into the water."  
  
"How's that going to help?" Ranma asked, as she stepped to the edge of the  
pond. She glanced downward, into the crystalline waters, and wondered   
aloud, "Isn't this just going to get her wet?"  
  
"Don't ask questions, Ranma. You want her to live, yes?"  
  
"Yeah," Ranma replied, nodding. She supposed this was not the time for   
questions anyway. She knelt gradually, taking care not to bump Shampoo too  
much. Leaning forward, she slowly brought Shampoo's body to the water's  
surface, and Kayoko's waiting arms. Kayoko nodded at her, and Ranma  
let go.  
  
The pair drifted slowly backwards, Kayoko looking intently down at the   
Amazon girl, a person she had never truly met or even spoken to, and called  
out to Ranma.  
  
"It's a serious injury, and she's lost a lot of blood. She'll be fine, but  
this will take quite a while," Kayoko said. She looked thoughtful for a  
moment. "Who is this girl ... Shampoo, you said?"  
  
"She's from China," Ranma replied, glancing at the girl in question.   
"She's bound to me by a debt of honour, or so she says."  
  
"It doesn't sound like you agree," Kayoko observed, as she began scooping  
water over Shampoo's neck and shoulders.  
  
"I'd really rather not talk about it," Ranma said with a sigh. Thinking  
about the events in Shampoo's home village brought back too many painful  
memories.  
  
"Alright," Kayoko said, a thoughtful look on her face. She was silent for  
a moment before asking another question. "Tell me, then, how did you   
become a girl?"  
  
"What?" Ranma asked, the question taking her by surprise. She glanced down  
at herself, and let out a small laugh. Seeing your childhood friend leave  
as a boy and return as a girl was bound to raise some questions. She   
wondered for a moment why Kayoko had not asked earlier; in the next she   
pondered just what answer to give, as she did not have one for herself.   
  
"I don't know how it happened, really. Pops took me to this training   
ground called Jusenkyo. I fell into a spring, and boom," she said, with  
a flourish, "here I am."  
  
"A spring, you say?" Kayoko replied, raising an eyebrow as she poured some  
water over Shampoo's face. "Interesting."  
  
"It threw me off for a while, but then Pops died, and before I knew it I   
was swimming back to Japan to find you. I try not to think about this   
body too much. I've had other things on my mind for a while."  
  
"Your father's wishes were more important that your own desire to find a   
cure for your problem?" Kayoko asked, a smile coming to her lips. "You've  
grown into a responsible young man, Ranma. I can see why he trusted you  
with the tooth."  
  
"What's all this tooth business, anyway?" Ranma asked, preferring not to  
dwell on the compliment. "Why is it so important?"  
  
"Come in, Ranma," Kayoko said, running one hand over the water's surface.  
"I want you to see this. It will help you to understand."  
  
"Understand what?"  
  
"Everything," Kayoko replied, raising her head to fix Ranma with her bright  
blue eyes. She smiled, tilted her head ever so slightly and waited for  
Ranma to move.  
  
Ranma meant to argue, to question the instruction, to ask for an   
explanation, but somehow the look Kayoko had in her eyes was explanation   
enough. She nodded, and with rather less grace than Kayoko before her,   
hopped into the water without hesitation. The sound of water splashing  
filled her ears as the cold water embraced her body.  
  
"Brrr," she said with a shiver. "Cold!"  
  
"You'll get used to it," Kayoko observed, still smiling. "Come here."  
  
Ranma waded out toward the pair, the thick mud of the pond's floor making  
progress slow, and giving her enough time to wonder how Kayoko had glided  
so gracefully about the water with seeming ease. Eventually, cheeks   
flushed with embarrassment at the bemused look Kayoko was giving her, she  
arrived on the other side of Shampoo.  
  
"There are two teeth - Shoryoutensei and Garyoutensei. They are called  
teeth quite simply because they are blades carved from the teeth of   
dragons. Genma carried both teeth. Before I was born he gave my mother   
one of the two teeth; the one known as Shoryoutensei. He asked that it be  
given to me when I was old enough. The other, he kept for himself."  
  
"Dragons' teeth," Ranma said, flatly. She was utterly unimpressed by this  
obviously fictional explanation. "He said that's what they were, and your  
mother believed him?"  
  
"That's right," Kayoko said, simply.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me. There's no such thing as a dragon."  
  
Kayoko laughed; a long, deep laugh that left Ranma wondering what she had  
said that was so amusing.  
  
"It's ironic that you could say such a thing," Kayoko said. "You are a   
dragon yourself, Ranma. You just don't know it."  
  
* * *  
  
"You say your father never mentioned dragons to you at all?"  
  
"No, never," Ranma replied, shaking her head. "He just talked about   
training."  
  
"That's a shame," Kayoko said with a sigh. "It took me years to come to  
terms with what I am. To have it thrust upon you like this is going to be  
inconvenient."  
  
"Inconvenient?" Ranma asked, incredulous. She had many words to describe  
what had happened to her so far, and 'inconvenient' was not very high up  
on the list.   
  
"I'm going to tell you a story, Ranma, if you'll listen. It might put  
things into perspective for you."  
  
"Okay," Ranma replied with a shrug. If Kayoko had a story to tell, who was  
she not to listen?  
  
"I've come to terms with what I am, but it's taken me a long time. When I  
was younger, things were different."  
  
"Different how?"  
  
"After my mother died," Kayoko began, "everything in my life changed.  
Every person in the village began to treat me differently. Every single  
person, without exception. I didn't understand why at first; I thought   
perhaps they felt sorry for my sister and I, or perhaps the thought of two  
young girls living alone as we did made them uncomfortable."  
  
"What do you mean, 'treated you differently'?" Ranma asked. "How?"  
  
"It wasn't anything obvious. It was just ... the way they looked at me. I  
could see the questions in their eyes. Perhaps they thought I was   
responsible for Mother's death, I don't know. Whatever it was, I could   
feel their eyes on me everywhere I went. I could hear their voices in my  
mind, asking questions about me, gossiping about me when they thought I  
couldn't hear."  
  
"So what did you do about it?"  
  
"I was just a little girl, Ranma. I didn't beat anyone up, if that's what  
you're expecting," Kayoko replied, a bitterly amused tone to her voice. "I  
did the only thing I could think to do: I ran away. I hid, inside my home.  
I could still feel them staring at me, but inside my house I was safe.  
  
"That didn't work for very long. After a while, I noticed my sister   
looking at me in the same way the others had. I asked her why she was  
doing it, but she didn't understand what I meant. So, I ran from her, my   
only living relative, as well. I hid in my room, because I couldn't muster   
up the courage to come out."  
  
"You ... hid from your own sister?" Ranma asked, scratching her head in   
disbelief.  
  
"I had to. In my room - by myself - I could pretend that everything was  
okay, that they weren't all talking about me. I could almost ignore the   
voices. My sister brought food to my room every day, but I refused to go   
to the hallway to get it. It was easier to go without food than to face   
her. I stayed there and hid, from everyone and everything."  
  
"How on Earth did you survive, locked away in a room like that?"  
  
"It was strange. For the first few days I was hungry, starving, and I  
almost gave in. After a week I could think of nothing but food, but I was   
just too afraid to leave. Before long I noticed that I didn't feel as   
hungry anymore, and eventually, I didn't feel hungry at all. I've never   
eaten since that day."  
  
"You're kidding," Ranma replied, flatly. "Now you're just lying."  
  
"It's the truth, Ranma. I promise you, it is the truth. It's the same with   
sleep; I was too afraid to go to sleep at night, because I thought someone   
would come into my room and find me while I slept. I stayed up all night  
every night, just watching the darkness. I was so afraid of what might   
happen if I closed my eyes ... I don't sleep anymore either."  
  
"Wait a minute," Ranma said, a knot growing in her stomach. She hadn't   
slept in a long, long time. She had attributed it to the urgency of her  
mission, but now that she thought about it, she really shouldn't have been  
able to stay awake for so long.   
  
"You don't sleep either, do you?" Kayoko asked, tilting her head   
questioningly.  
  
"No, I don't," Ranma replied, staring directly at her childhood friend. "I  
tried to, but I just can't fall asleep. I just ... gave up after a while."  
  
"There is no sustenance or rest in the higher plane," Kayoko said, lowering   
herself slightly into the water. "Dragons do not need food or sleep; nor  
do the Tatsujin. They are eternal."  
  
"What's a ... Tatsujin?"  
  
"I'm amazed that your father would have passed on the tooth to you without   
telling you any of this," Kayoko said, shaking her head in disbelief.   
"It's ... reckless and irresponsible. I suppose, considering Genma, that's  
not really a surprise."  
  
"You didn't answer my question," Ranma pointed out.  
  
"It's not an easy question to answer," Kayoko replied, slowly stroking a   
moistened hand across Shampoo's forehead. "The point I was trying to make  
was that it took me years to come to terms with this. You can't expect any  
easy answers, because there aren't any."  
  
"So what do I do?" Ranma asked, exasperated. She had hoped that Kayoko  
would be able to shed some light on what was going on, but it seemed that   
the Tendo girl raised more questions than answers.  
  
"I honestly don't know," Kayoko replied. "Genma told me he would return,  
but now you are here in his place, and you know even less than I do. I had  
always hoped Genma would tell me what I had to do, so I could do it and   
then find Kurumi."  
  
"Find her? Where did she go?" Ranma asked.  
  
"She left about a year ago, for Okinawa. She didn't want to leave, but she  
had no choice."  
  
"No choice?" Ranma asked. "Why not?"  
  
"I'd been hiding in my room for nearly six months when it started to rain.  
I don't mean ordinary rain, I mean a fierce rain that just would not stop.  
It would ease sometimes, for perhaps a few hours, but every single day it   
came back, without fail."  
  
Ranma held up a hand. "Wait a minute. What does this have to do with   
anything?"  
  
"The others in the village grew suspicious. There had never been such a  
relentless rainstorm before, and some of them began to suspect that I was  
causing it. It was easy for them to lay the blame upon the odd girl who  
lived alone and refused to come outside, after all."  
  
"How could they blame you for a rainstorm?" Ranma asked, utterly   
incredulous. "That doesn't make any sense!"  
  
"It sounds like nonsense, I know, but they were right. I always knew I was  
different to the others, and something inside told me the rain was caused   
by me, somehow."  
  
"How?" Ranma asked, her confusion growing.   
  
"All in good time," Kayoko said, shaking her head. "My sister found out   
that a few of the men were planning to come and burn down our house, to   
exorcise whatever demons lived there. She begged with me to leave with   
her, to get out of the house and away from them, but I just couldn't. My   
mother had told me that Genma would come for me, and so I decided to wait   
for him.   
  
"I told Kurumi to leave, to get away from the village, and that I would   
find her when Genma came. She said she would go to Okinawa and wait for me.  
She tied together branches of a tree and dressed them, and with a cloak   
draped over them, she made sure the villagers saw her leaving. They   
assumed she had taken me with them."  
  
"So you've been hiding in that house ever since?" Ranma asked, taken aback.  
"By yourself?"  
  
"Waiting for a man who will never come," Kayoko said, averting her eyes   
from Ranma. She sighed. "It kept raining, but the others in the village   
thought I'd left, so they assumed it was just a spell of bad weather."  
  
"It's not raining now," Ranma observed, gesturing up at the clear sky   
overhead. As if on cue, the moon peeked between a set of puffy white   
clouds and cast a pale glow upon the pond.  
  
"You're right, it's not," Kayoko replied, unfazed by the observation. She  
peered intently at Ranma for a moment before adding, "It hasn't rained  
since the day you arrived."  
  
Ranma sighed and lowered herself into the water, a thousand and one   
questions crossing her mind as she stared at the surface. She glanced at  
Shampoo, who was laying motionless in Kayoko's arms. She had been so   
absorbed in what the Tendo girl was saying to her that she had almost   
forgotten about the Amazon girl laying unconscious between them.  
  
She watched as Kayoko tilted Shampoo's head back ever so slightly and   
scooped water onto the girl's neck, the liquid washing away the dried blood  
that marked the Amazon's skin. The wound had begun bleeding again, and  
before long the red stain had returned. Kayoko once again scooped up a  
handful of water and washed it away, undeterred.  
  
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ranma asked. She felt as though she  
should be doing -something- to aid her friend.She had no idea what she   
could do, but had no desire to do nothing.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Ranma. Trust me," Kayoko said firmly.  
  
"Okay, okay," Ranma replied with an exasperated sigh. She wanted to grab   
Shampoo and shake the life back into her, to yell the Amazon's name until   
she woke up. She frowned, realising the futility of her desires, and tried  
to think of other things.  
  
"My mother told me many things before she died," Kayoko said, sensing   
Ranma's restlessness. She offered a smile and gently stroked her hand over  
Shampoo's shoulder. "Stories, I mean. I thought they were just fables,   
but after she died I came to realise that they were what your father had  
told her to tell me."  
  
"What kind of stories?"  
  
"Where should I begin?" Kayoko wondered. "I suppose the beginning is as   
good a place as any. Let me tell you what my mother told me about the  
Kingdom of Dragons."  
  
* * *  
  
Many thousands of years ago, before the sun rose over the horizon, there  
existed only Dragonkin. They did not exist on Earth but in a higher realm,  
in an endless kingdom of light. They were wise and benevolent, and when   
they saw the birth of a new realm beneath their own, they paid very close   
attention. They took it upon themselves to watch over this newborn realm,   
this place that would one day become Earth, to guide it through its youth   
and guard it from harm.  
  
Watch it they did; for millennia they led the young world through growth   
and decay, steering it through prosperity and despair. Their eyes were   
ever vigilant, set upon one task - to keep the Great Balance intact. Ages   
came and went, but the Great Balance was eternal and infinite.   
  
Beneath the realm of Earth lay another realm known to Dragonkin as the  
Otherworld, a realm of light and darkness, without physical form. It was  
from this realm that the dragons drew energy with which to bestow life upon  
the fledgling Earth. Their gifts were many, and soon the plants and   
animals they had created covered the world.  
  
The newly-created gateway between the Otherworld and Earth could not be  
left unwatched, and so two dragons were charged with the task of guarding  
it. Ryujin the blue guided energy from the Otherworld to Earth, from   
which life could be born, while Ryukyu the red pulled the energy from the  
dead and returned it to the Otherworld.  
  
The world prospered under the dragons' rule, and life grew quickly across  
every part of the world. Eventually, after all else was in place, the   
Dragonkin decided to create one more race, a final testament to the world   
they had created. The new race was not to share in the raw power of the   
animals, nor the ageless endurance of the trees and the grass. This race   
was to be governed by intellect, wisdom and reason, as the dragons   
themselves were. Such a race could perhaps, in time, take over stewardship  
of the realm.   
  
With such lofty goals in mind, the Dragonkin placed mankind upon the world.  
  
For a time, all was well, and the realm prospered. However, mankind grew   
too quickly, its expansion far outstripping all expectations. The humans   
were adaptable, intelligent, resourceful. They began to wonder at the   
nature of their own existence; to ask questions they should not have asked.  
  
This worried the dragons greatly. Mankind was exerting far too much   
influence upon the world and pushing against boundaries they could not be   
allowed to breach. That made them dangerous. They had to be controlled,   
or the Great Balance would be irreparably damaged. Such damage could not   
be allowed.  
  
There was much debate amongst the dragons. Some called for the  
extermination of this dangerous child race, this ailment which threatened  
the harmony of the realms. Others called for a moderate approach,   
declaring that the humans took after the dragons and thus would innately   
respect the Great Balance. The Balance would protect itself, they   
declared, and the humans should be left to their own devices.  
  
Eventually, after much discussion, the only decision which all of the   
Dragonkin would stand behind was that to create a final race - a   
half-dragon breed borne of the Earth that could traverse the realms at   
will. A race not just modeled after the Dragonkin, but infused with their   
very blood. This hidden, immortal race was named the Tatsujin.  
  
The Tatsujin were eternal beings, bound by design to obey their dragon   
masters, compelled to serve their needs and assist in the guidance of the   
world. Gifted with the ability to change their forms at will, to better   
blend in amongst mankind, they served as the eyes and ears of the   
Dragonkin. Some took the forms of animals, in order to watch the humans   
from afar; others took on a human guise and saturated themselves with the   
complexities of human society.  
  
With a direct, physical presence within the Earth realm, the dragons were   
satisfied. The Tatsujin were passive observers, but could be used as   
instruments of change should the need arise. The balance could be   
maintained if the humans could be manipulated.  
  
However, not all was well in the Earth realm. Some of the Tatsujin grew   
dissatisfied with their role as servants. Rumblings of dissent filled   
their hearts, and they - like the humans - began to ask questions. They  
could traverse the realms at will; a feat even their masters could not   
accomplish.   
  
Why should they watch over one inferior race at the behest of another?   
Should it not be the Tatsujin, the most gifted of beings in the three   
realms, who presided over the higher realm?  
  
The vast majority of the Tatsujin remained steadfastly loyal to their   
lords, but a small group of Tatsujin - lead by one named Kuonji - began to   
devise a theory of their own. It did not make sense in their minds that   
the Dragonkin would create a race that was superior to their own. Was it  
not more likely that the Tatsujin created the Dragonkin, and had somehow  
been tricked into believing the lies of the dragons, forever denied their  
true destiny as rulers of the three realms?  
  
This small group planned and schemed, and eventually devised a plot to   
overthrow their masters. They convinced their dragon lords that the humans  
were losing faith; that the masses needed proof of the existence of their   
creators to remain loyal. At the same time, they warned the most powerful   
humans of a vast invasion of dragons, a scourge that could wipe out all of   
mankind.   
  
The humans, fearful and easily manipulated by the Tatsujin, rallied vast   
armies ready to defend themselves from the coming horde of dragons. Kuonji  
described the dragons in great detail to the humans, arming them with the   
knowledge of how best to strike. With the armies lying in wait, Kuonji   
returned to the higher realm and spoke to the Dragonkin.  
  
The dragons' innate concern for the Balance told them an upheaval in the   
beliefs and behaviour of humankind would be disastrous. There was much   
debate amongst them how best to address the problem, but it was Kuonji who   
proposed what seemed the most effective solution.   
  
The Tatsujin's plan was controversial - it called for a vast rift to be  
created, a gateway between the realm of Earth and the higher realm. Such a  
thing had never been considered, and many of the dragons questioned its   
effect on the Great Balance. They argued that there was a reason dragons   
could not naturally enter the realm of Earth, and that reason should not be  
overlooked.  
  
The dissenting opinions were overruled, however, and Kuonji was given   
permission to proceed with the plan.  
  
An enormous portal was created, a vast bridge spanning the gap between   
realms. A bright white scar ripped across the Earth's sky, tearing the   
very fabric of the realm in two. The Earth shuddered and the higher realm  
itself was violently shaken by the creation of the rift.   
  
Kuonji passed through the gateway, arriving in the higher realm as proof  
that traversing the realms was safe. The Dragonkin, satisfied with this  
demonstration, passed through the great fissure. They took on mortal forms  
as they arrived in the Earth realm to greet the humans they had created so   
long ago. Kuonji followed behind the last of the dragons and   
surreptitiously signaled the waiting armies.  
  
The humans, armed with the knowledge the Tatsujin had bestowed upon them,  
sprung their trap; they launched a vicious ambush upon the dragons shortly  
after their arrival in the Earth realm. The dragons were far more   
powerful, but they were vastly outnumbered, and had no knowledge of how to  
defend themselves. An eternity of existence in a higher realm had not  
taught them the harsh realities of mortal warfare. The battle was quick   
and decisive, and at its end the ground was stained red with the blood of a  
thousand dragons.  
  
A few tried to escape to their own realm, but Kuonji the betrayer closed   
the rift behind them, leaving them to face their demise. The dragons were   
slaughtered; all but two of their number fell to the humans. The two  
survivors were guided away from the slaughter by Kuonji - who feigned   
loyalty - before the humans could notice them.  
  
These two dragons were Ryukyu and Ryujin, the two dragons sworn to guard   
the gateway between the Earth realm and the Otherworld. Kuonji convinced   
them that they were in danger, that they could not wander the Earth as   
dragons. They were told to transfer their very essence into the form of   
two blades, that they could be hidden from those who would seek to do them  
harm.  
  
They trusted Kuonji and agreed to the offer, but they were betrayed just as  
their brethren had been: the moment they handed over the swords their   
mortal bodies were killed, their draconic essences stolen. The Tatsujin   
betrayer fled with the swords, leaving the humans to recover from the   
losses they had taken in battle.  
  
Kuonji meant to sink into the mists with the swords, but was ambushed; the   
two swords were once again stolen, and the Tatsujin was left badly injured   
by the battle. Kuonji vowed revenge on those who stole the swords, and so  
embarked on an vengeful crusade, seeking retribution on the ones who took   
them.  
  
* * *  
  
"Kuonji was the architect of their downfall. And now, it seems that the   
betrayer has found the swords she seeks," Kayoko said, a grave tone in her  
voice. "We are the only obstacles in her way."  
  
Ranma sighed and turned away. This was so much information to absorb. She  
did not know what to believe and what to dismiss as fiction. Why would her  
father have kept this to himself? If it were true, why did he not tell her  
before he died?  
  
It all seemed too surreal to be true. Immortal dragons? A dragon-human  
war? How could this have happened and yet be completely unknown to her?  
Surely there would exist records of such a battle. How could such an event  
go unrecorded?  
  
She felt her feet sink slightly into the mud and half-closed her eyes,   
wishing that she could forget all that had happened to her. So much had   
changed in her life that she wondered if she would ever be able to stop and  
rest again. She sighed, and tossed aside the fantasy.There were more   
important things to think of.  
  
"So, Ukyo is this ... this Tatsujin betrayer?" she asked, finding the   
question hard to even ask. She had come to think of Ukyo as a friend   
during their journey together - how could the strange girl she had   
befriended be the one responsible for the slaughter of an entire race? It   
simply didn't seem possible.  
  
"It certainly appears that way," Kayoko's voice confirmed from behind   
Ranma. "She carries the Kuonji name, and was ready to kill you to take the  
tooth you carry."  
  
Ranma glanced over her shoulder at Shampoo. Why was she defending this  
person, the one who had attacked her friend? She gritted her teeth. No,  
whatever she may have thought about Ukyo was wrong. This girl was an   
enemy, whether or not she was the traitor.   
  
"Why does she want the swords?" Ranma asked, remembering the many nights  
she lay near Ukyo with her sword at her side. In all that time, the Kuonji  
girl had shown no interest in her weapon, let alone made any move to take  
it.   
  
"I don't know," Kayoko replied, shrugging as Ranma turned to face her. "I  
assume whatever reason it is, it will not bode well for us."  
  
"Not just us," Ranma added, glancing at the silent form of Shampoo. She   
sighed, and took one of the Amazon's hands into her own. It was cold to   
the touch, but nevertheless she gave it a gentle squeeze.   
  
"The betrayer has no regard for humans or dragons," Kayoko said, her voice  
quiet. She placed her hand atop Ranma's and held it gently. "We must  
protect the humans as well as ourselves."  
  
Ranma felt goosebumps prickle her skin as Kayoko's hand touched hers. She  
had long suspected something had changed the day her father had died. The  
events of that day had created a rift between her and the world around her.  
She had never been able to quantify it exactly, but she felt somehow ...  
disconnected, from everyone and everything.   
  
Kayoko's words had given her much to reflect on. There were too many   
unanswered questions, and the ones Kayoko had offered answers to had simply  
given way to other, larger questions. With her father and Kayoko's mother  
dead, who could she turn to for answers?   
  
She pulled her hand away, leaving Kayoko to tend to Shampoo, and waded over  
to the far side of the pond. If she could not help, she would use the time  
to think.  
  
She sighed and sank her hands slightly into the water, watching the surface  
close around them. There was always the possibility that Kayoko was wrong,  
that she was taking literally something that was merely meant as a story.  
Somehow, though, that did not seem right. Kayoko's words - her stories -   
resonated within Ranma, and somehow she knew they were not fantasies. A   
kingdom of dragons, something that would have seemed ridiculous a few weeks  
earlier, seemed now to make a strange sort of sense.  
  
Whether or not it was true, she knew that Ukyo would be on their trail.   
The only plan she had - to find Kayoko - was no longer useful. She had to   
decide upon a new plan, and quickly. Ukyo would be in pursuit - the   
reasons why did not change that fact. Ranma could consider the whys and  
hows later. For now, she had to escape and try to make sense of what had  
happened.  
  
But, escape to where? She did not have any real home, besides an old house  
in Edo that was most likely home to someone else by now. She had no family  
to speak of, and her only two friends were already standing in the pond   
beside her. She did not have anywhere to go.  
  
Kayoko had a family; Kayoko had a plan. The Tendo girl was going to   
Okinawa to find her sister. That, Ranma decided, was the best plan for her  
to follow. She had few friends in the world, and she did not intend to   
abandon the few she did have. She had left Kayoko behind once, and would  
not do it again.  
  
If Kayoko was going to Okinawa to find her sister, then Ranma would follow.   
  
* * *  
  
Ranma sighed, resting her head in one hand as she leaned on a small rock   
that protruded from the water's surface near the pond's edge. She had been  
standing in the water for little more than an hour, but to her it felt as   
though she had been standing there all day. The thought of Ukyo growing  
closer by the minute lingered in the back of her mind, refusing to be   
dismissed.  
  
The conversation between herself and Kayoko had long since faded into  
silence; the only words spoken now were by Kayoko as she whispered into  
Shampoo's ear. The continual noise of the surrounding forest ensured that  
Ranma could not make out what was being said, nor did she particularly care  
to. She felt like an unnecessary appendage, her abilities useless to aid  
Shampoo. She was not used to this feeling of helplessness and it disturbed  
her greatly.   
  
Kayoko had called her into the pond for a reason, but what that reason was  
she did not know. All she had done was stand around and watch; something  
she could just as easily have done from the water's edge. She knew that  
Kayoko would explain to her why she was in the water, but the wait for that  
explanation was frustrating.   
  
Just be okay, Shampoo, she thought, looking down into the murky waters.  
Please be okay.  
  
A small rustling noise caught her ear; she glanced toward its source and  
blinked in surprise as she saw two rabbits sitting between the trees,   
calmly looking at her. She watched them for a moment, their black eyes   
glimmering in the reflected light of the moon, their noses twitching back   
and forth as if following a scent upon the air.  
  
Rabbits were timid creatures, she knew, and never in her life had she seen   
one stay so calm and still near a human. She jumped, startled, as she   
became suddenly aware that the rabbits were not alone; from the shadowed   
depths of the forests were emerging a wide variety of animals, from birds   
that settled in upon the many branches circling the pond, to wolves, rats,  
and dogs. A swarm of insects gathered around the pond, forming a swirling,  
buzzing halo.  
  
She swallowed, taking a step back as she peered at the multitude of life   
surrounding her. Predators and prey, animals that were enemies of one   
another sat quietly together at the forest's edge, each watching her  
intently, each calm, silent and still.  
  
The moonlight faded, the pale orb swallowed by an enormous cloud bank. The  
air chilled slightly beneath the cloud's shadow and Ranma shivered, the  
waist-deep water suddenly feeling warmer by contrast. No, she realised,   
casting her eyes downward. The water didn't just -feel- warmer, it -was-  
warmer. Much warmer.   
  
A tiny ball of light burst into existence before her, deep within the   
water, its shape obscured by the ripples her retreat had left. Bright,  
white, it was quickly joined by another, and another, each hanging in place  
for only a moment before slowly gliding toward her. Each left a   
luminescent trail that glowed white for just a moment before fading to   
grey, then disappearing entirely.  
  
What on Earth is that, she thought, her mind's voice rising in a panic.   
She held out one hand to catch one of the tiny glowing specks but it passed  
effortlessly through her hand, leaving behind nothing but a warm glow upon  
her skin. Nevertheless she jolted it out of the water, clutching her hand  
to her chest, cradling it as if injured.  
  
"Ranma. It's time."  
  
The voice startled her; it was loud yet soft, booming yet soothing, and  
carried a tone she did not recognise. She whirled around to face it,  
wondering just where it had come from - her question died in her chest as   
she realised just what the animals were staring at.   
  
The tiny lights she had seen were not alone. Scores of similar lights   
danced through the water, moving with perfect synchronicity toward the   
centre of the pond, lining up into a series of concentric rings as they   
drew closer to Shampoo. Ranma swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, as her   
eyes fell upon Kayoko.  
  
Two enormous white wings had sprouted from Kayoko's shoulder blades; they  
spanned the pond, the iridescent glow of a thousand silver-tipped feathers  
bathing the clearing in a radiant white light. Kayoko smiled at Ranma, her  
bright blue eyes seeming to glow with that same brilliant energy as she  
raised one hand to beckon Ranma closer.  
  
Ranma stepped closer, compelled to answer Kayoko's call, her eyes firmly   
locked upon those enormous, majestic wings that dwarfed the girl who   
supported them. A breeze picked up as she stepped closer, circling the   
pond and setting the perfectly aligned rows of feathers aflutter.  
  
"What ... what the hell?" she asked, her voice whipped away upon the   
ever-growing wind that circled her. She glanced down at the water again,  
the surface perfectly calm and still despite the howling wind that twisted   
atop it.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kayoko said, her voice booming effortlessly through  
the wind. Her hair whipped wildly in the breeze, her wings shook with each  
gust, but she stood calmly and smiled. "Our children have gathered to see.  
Even the sky wishes to join us."  
  
"The sky...?" Ranma asked, shielding her eyes from the gale. A bright  
flash filled the forest for just a moment, illuminating Kayoko's smile as   
she gestured upward with her eyes. Ranma followed Kayoko's eyes and looked  
up into the sky; the clouds overhead had grown dark, and from within them   
an enormous clap of thunder resonated, seeming to shake the very Earth.  
  
"What's going on?!" Ranma cried, rushing toward Kayoko, her hurried wading  
leaving scattered trails of darkness amid the glowing pool. She came to a  
stop opposite Kayoko, Shampoo's still body between them. "What's   
happening?"  
  
"Here they come," Kayoko said, reaching out and snatching one of Ranma's  
hands with her own. She held it, the palm facing up, and closed her eyes.   
"Behold, the storm."  
  
Ranma wanted to struggle, to snatch back her hand and demand answers, but  
somehow she could not. Instead she stood still and watched a single   
droplet of rain, fat and glowing white, splashed into her palm. She   
stared, transfixed, as the warm liquid ran across her skin to drip down   
into the pond below. Another droplet fell, striking her on the cheek;  
another landed on Kayoko's arm, and before long a downpour of warm, glowing  
rain had begun, a torrential cascade of water that drenched all three of  
them.  
  
"What is this?" Ranma asked, bewildered by the warm liquid that gathered in  
her hand.  
  
"Our gift to this realm," Kayoko replied, leaning closer to Ranma. She   
squeezed Ranma's hand gently and smiled as glimmering streams of rain ran  
down her face. "The water holds the essence of life itself. The humans,  
the animals, all life upon this world arose from this water."  
  
"It's ... alive?" Ranma asked, glancing down at her hand in wonderment.   
The water felt warm, like the warmth of Satoko's arms as she hugged Ranma   
goodnight; like the warmth of Shampoo's breath on her neck as they huddled  
together on a cold night. The warmth encompassed and surrounded her hand,  
only Kayoko's slender fingers felt cold against her skin.  
  
"It's not alive, it -creates- life," Kayoko said firmly. Stretching her  
wings, she gracefully curled them around behind Ranma, surrounding the trio  
in a feathered cocoon. "It grants life to all the people of this world, to  
the plants and the animals, and now it shall grant life to this girl."  
  
"You mean ... she's ...?" Ranma stammered, glancing down at Shampoo's face.  
It was so calm, so still, so empty. Was it possible? Could she have been  
so wrapped up in thought that she did not notice the death of her friend?  
She felt the hairs on her neck stand on end, a crackling energy filling the  
air as she swallowed nervously.  
  
"The waters are leaving her, but it's not too late," Kayoko said   
reassuringly. She closed her wings more tightly, holding the wind at bay   
and allowing her voice to drop to a whisper. "Even as they seep out of her   
body, they can be renewed and replenished. Her memories live on within   
her; through them, so will she. She will live again, born anew."  
  
"I don't understand," Ranma said, bewildered. She watched in wonder as the  
glow that suffused the water spread to Shampoo's body - a little at a time,  
spreading slowly until her entire body shone with the same brilliant light.  
Ranma looked up at Kayoko in amazement, capturing the winged girl's eyes  
with her own. Within those stormy blue orbs she saw life; the irises   
moved, the bright blue colour within them glowing brightly and swirling   
like a liquid. She stared, transfixed, unable to do anything but mouth the  
question, "How?"  
  
"You and I, Ranma, we are the gatekeepers," Kayoko said, her hair whipping  
behind her in the increasingly violent wind that circled around the   
protective shell of her wings. "All life is bound to us. I create life   
upon this Earth, you return it so that it may rest before being born again.  
You ask how, and I say that is what we are destined to do. The decision  
is ours to make. It was not merely me who saved her - it was both of us."  
  
"The decision ..." Ranma whispered, looking down at Shampoo. The Amazon   
was resplendent in her luminance, a glorious white aura that contained and  
supported her. Ranma reached down and stroked the girl's forehead - it was  
warm, and Shampoo's mouth moved slightly, forming the faintest hint of a   
smile.  
  
"Life, death, the beginning and the end. You know of what I speak, Ranma.  
In your heart you understand our duty. It is through us that the great  
wheel turns, that the Balance is maintained in this realm. We are the sole  
survivors of our race. There was once a great kingdom that governed, but  
we are all that remains. We hold this world in our hands; that is both our  
punishment and our reward."  
  
"I ... I don't ...."  
  
"In time you'll understand," Kayoko said, reaching out to gently touch   
Ranma's cheek. Slowly, the lights faded one by one until darkness was all  
that remained. Her wings slowly retracted, folding in upon themselves   
until they were contained behind her back. "Your answers will come with  
time."  
  
Ranma jumped as, suddenly, the water surrounding her was cold once more. A  
dim light faded into existence; she cast her eyes upwards and realised that  
the clouds were gone, the moon was shining once more, and the rain had   
ceased. Once more, they were alone.  
  
"Ranma, she's waking up."  
  
The voice was Kayoko's - the Kayoko that she remembered, the Kayoko who had  
held her so tightly in Edo, the Kayoko she had grown up with. Ranma turned  
to face her and stared; the wings were gone, the radiant smile and luminous  
glow were nowhere to be seen. She wondered, for just a moment, if it had  
all been a dream.  
  
"Ugh ...." moaned Shampoo, her voice straining as she struggled with   
consciousness.  
  
"Keep still, you're going to be fine," Kayoko instructed, supporting   
Shampoo with both arms.   
  
"Everything is going to be fine," Ranma added, her eyes still on Kayoko   
even as she spoke to Shampoo. She gave a puzzled look at the Tendo girl   
before finally turning her eyes to the Amazon. "You're going to be okay."  
  
"Master," Shampoo croaked, partially opening one eye to look at Ranma. She  
smiled, even though it obviously pained her to do so. "I dreamed about   
you, Master."  
  
"You did?" Ranma asked, bewildered.  
  
"I was falling into darkness, and you caught me," Shampoo whispered  
hoarsely. "Thank you, Master."  
  
"Close your eyes, get some sleep," Kayoko instructed, sliding one hand over  
Shampoo's eyes to close them. "You need to rest. You've had a hard day."  
  
Shampoo offered no argument; she let her eye be closed, and quickly fell   
into a deep sleep. Her chest rose and fell slowly with her breath; it was  
shallow, but steady.   
  
Ranma stroked her forehead gently, and let out a sigh of relief. She did  
not know what she would have done if Shampoo had not survived. The girl  
was one constant in a world of upheaval, a friend in a world of strangers.  
Truth be told, she needed Shampoo as much as Shampoo needed her. She held  
on to Shampoo for a long time, watching her sleep.  
  
"We must leave soon if we are to stay ahead of the betrayer. We'll carry  
her if we must."  
  
Ranma nodded - she knew it was true. Ukyo would be pursuing them and they  
could not afford any more delays. She watched as Kayoko waded away,   
easily carrying Shampoo in both arms.  
  
"'yoko, wait," Ranma called, turning to the Tendo girl, who stopped midway  
to the edge of the pond. "Did that ... really just happen? Was it real?"  
  
"It was real, Ranma," Kayoko replied with a nod. "I wanted to show you the  
world you are now a part of. I wanted to share what I know."  
  
"So I'm ... I'm not human."  
  
"You were born human," Kayoko said, turning away and moving once more to   
the edge of the pond. She gently laid Shampoo's body upon the grass, then   
hoisted herself up, lifting her own body out of the water with ease.  
  
"But I'm not anymore."  
  
"No," Kayoko said, water dripping from her body as she stepped away from  
the pond. "You have become something more."  
  
= = = =  
T E N  
= = = = 


	14. Seraphim

= = = =  
  
T E N  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic  
  
By R. E.  
  
(ranma_e@hotmail.com)  
  
Illustrations by Irka  
  
(irka@ciudad.com.ar)  
  
= = = =  
  
CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
  
"Seraphim"  
  
= = = = = = = =  
  
Ukyo stared at the light before her, her lifeless body unable to do   
  
anything else. She felt a profound numbness, a pronounced lack of feeling  
  
so intense it was in itself a deeply disturbing sensation. Fighting off  
  
the ever growing urge to close her eyes, she focused on the faint memories  
  
in her mind, their elusive images remaining just beyond her grasp.  
  
She could see her sword - Seriatim. It was hers and hers alone, and yet  
  
she could not reach out to grasp it. There was a wall of ice between them,  
  
an unbreakable barrier that froze her body with its touch. It glowed   
  
fiercely with a bright white light and called helplessly out to her,  
  
beckoned her toward it; however, she could not move.   
  
Its screams became more frantic, more desperate. A powerful longing grew   
  
within her, an unbearable compulsion to be with the sword. She turned her  
  
head away, unable to bear it any longer. Slowly, the sword's glow faded  
  
from her sight, but not her mind.   
  
What's going on?  
  
Distorted images of the world around her flashed past her eyes and she   
  
stared - thoughtless, motionless, breathless, recognising none of the  
  
places as they whirled past her eyes in a blur. Faster and faster they   
  
passed by, a vague sense of nausea prickling at the edge of her   
  
consciousness. She tried to ignore it, utterly incapable of doing anything   
  
else about it.  
  
Where am I?  
  
Her eyes slammed shut of their own volition, her mind reeling as it tried  
  
to cope with the sudden onset of dizziness. Was she falling? She didn't  
  
know. She tried to move, to breathe, to open her eyes once more, but she  
  
could not. All of her senses had abandoned her, leaving her utterly alone   
  
in the shadow.  
  
She frantically tried to figure out what was going on, why she could not   
  
move, but the more she tried the less she could remember. The darkness  
  
enveloped not only her body but her mind. As it closed in upon her, a   
  
sudden, chilling question gripped her:  
  
Who am I?  
  
The question faded into the nothingness, echoes tumbling into the void. A  
  
strong, euphoric calm washed over her, her feelings of helplessness turning  
  
into a sense of liberation; freedom from sight, from sound, from all sense  
  
of the world around her. She wondered, for a moment, if she were dead.  
  
Just then a bright flash of light filled the void around her, a dazzling   
  
explosion of white that threatened to overload her senses. She saw, or   
  
perhaps imagined, the face of a girl within that light, a smiling girl with  
  
shimmering blue hair, whose eyes shone with a strong, fierce presence.  
  
You ... I know you ... you're ....  
  
The light of recollection burst forth from her mind, a stunning epiphany,   
  
and for just a moment - a single heartbeat, a gasp of surprise - her mind  
  
awoke and ... she remembered.  
  
She remembered.  
  
Everything.  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo awoke with a start, jumping upwards to a sitting position - or, at   
  
least, trying to. The firm restraints holding her to the table prevented   
  
her from doing anything other than almost snapping her wrists.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," came Ryoga's voice, his face appearing out of nowhere.  
  
"Calm down, you're okay."  
  
"What ... where?" Ukyo asked, bewildered. She looked up at Ryoga, willing  
  
her eyes to focus. He looked down at her, smiling, although his eyes   
  
carried a hint of concern.   
  
"You're in the recovery ward. You're fine, although you gave me a real   
  
scare," Ryoga said quietly, and she felt his hand squeeze hers. "You  
  
reacted badly to the anaesthetic. It was pretty close there for a while."  
  
She glanced around the room - it was a sterile-looking laboratory, bathed   
  
in fluorescent white light. They were alone, the remaining beds in the   
  
room remaining unused.  
  
Slowly lowering her body to the bed beneath her, she took several deep   
  
breaths and tried to gather herself. She concentrated, and managed to will  
  
her fingers to return Ryoga's gesture. He smiled, obviously noticing her  
  
efforts.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, throat dry. She forced herself to swallow, and  
  
grimaced at the burning sensation at the back of her throat. It felt as   
  
though her mouth had been scrubbed clean with a wire brush.   
  
"No need to apologise," he replied, laughing a little. The relief in his   
  
voice was obvious to Ukyo, even in her groggy state. "Are you feeling   
  
okay? Any dizziness or nausea?"  
  
"I'm okay," she replied, lightly shaking her head. She narrowed her eyes,   
  
trying to filter out the incessant flickering of that damnable light.   
  
"Just feeling a little weak."  
  
"That's to be expected. You'll be on your feet in no time," Ryoga assured.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned closer and whispered, "I'm glad  
  
to see you again."  
  
She smiled weakly despite a sharp, nagging pain that ran up and down her  
  
back. She was glad to see him too. A flood of memories washed over her;   
  
the conversation with Ryoga, the procedure to implant the secondary stage   
  
of Seraph Wing, the powerful anaesthetic ... the dreams.  
  
"I had a dream," she croaked, causing Ryoga's eyebrow to rise.  
  
"What kind of dream?"  
  
"I can't remember," she replied, sullen. The dream had faded from her mind  
  
the moment she awoke, leaving behind only glimpses of what it had held.   
  
She tried to concentrate, to recall what had occupied her mind only moments  
  
before, but could not piece the puzzle together. She sighed. "All I   
  
remember is a sword ... my sword. What happened to my sword?"  
  
"Your sword?" Ryoga asked, his voice a whisper as he leaned even closer.   
  
He glanced over his shoulder again, and only returned his attention to her  
  
after he was satisfied they were alone. "I -knew- they weren't telling me  
  
everything. They said you were unarmed when they found you; they didn't   
  
tell me anything about a sword."  
  
"I had a sword ... before," Ukyo replied in a whisper, Ryoga's unease   
  
awakening her own nervousness. She glanced about the room as well,   
  
wondering just what he had been looking for. "It was called Seriatim."  
  
"Seriatim?" Ryoga replied, a puzzled tone to his voice. He scratched his  
  
cheek in a moment of thoughtful consideration. "I've heard that name   
  
somewhere before."  
  
"I have to get it back."  
  
"Why?" Ryoga asked, glancing about once more. "What's so important about   
  
it?"  
  
"I ... I don't know," Ukyo admitted, deflating with a sigh. "I can't  
  
remember. I just know that I have to have it. Please, Ryoga."  
  
"Alpha Team brought you aboard, anything they carried with you would have  
  
been stowed in a military lockup. I don't have access to any of the   
  
secured sections of the sub," Ryoga replied, with a shake of his head.   
  
Ukyo fixed him with a plaintive glance, and he quickly wilted.   
  
"I'll see what I can do," he offered diplomatically. "For you."  
  
"Thank you," Ukyo said gratefully. "It means a lot to me."  
  
A hiss filled the room as a nearby door slid open and Ryoga shot back up   
  
into a standing position, his conspiratorial whispering replaced with a   
  
clearly audible declaration:  
  
"Well, you seem to be doing fine. It's important that you try to get some   
  
sleep, give your body a chance to recover. I'll check on you in a few   
  
hours."  
  
She nodded in response, reading the meaning in his eyes: play along. She  
  
cleared her throat and replied with a simple, "Thank you."  
  
Colonel Hunter stepped through the open door and turned to them both,   
  
fixing her with a critical gaze. He spoke, clearly addressing Ryoga   
  
although his eyes did not leave her.  
  
"Is she ready to be moved?"  
  
"Not yet," Ryoga replied with a shake of his head. "Her nervous system   
  
will need time to readjust to the new implants. If you try to move her now  
  
you will cause irreparable damage."  
  
"How long?" Hunter asked, finally shifting his gaze to Ryoga.  
  
"A few hours. Yoiko will be coming by in an hour or so to brief her on the  
  
implants we've installed, but other than that I'd like to keep her   
  
isolated. It will speed the recovery process."  
  
"She needs to begin Wing training as soon as possible, Ryoga. These delays  
  
are unacceptable."  
  
"I understand, however, she won't be able to do -any- kind of training if  
  
her spinal column ruptures."  
  
Hunter narrowed his eyes, a glimmer of irritation briefly showing through.  
  
It was quickly banished, replaced by a calm expression. "Very well. I  
  
want an update at oh-seven-hundred."  
  
"Of course," Ryoga replied with a nod. He waited until Hunter had left,   
  
and the door had locked into place, then turned to Ukyo. "I'll be back.   
  
Keep very still, or they might get funny ideas about throwing you back into  
  
training."  
  
* * *  
  
Yoiko Hibiki massaged her temples gently as she stared at the contents of  
  
her workstation's screen. The diagrams and figures were beginning to blur  
  
together. A migraine prowled at the fringes of her mind, a predator ready  
  
to pounce any minute. She sighed and glanced at her watch. She'd been on  
  
duty for twelve hours, and with the sudden rush in the Seraph Wing project  
  
she did not know when she would get a chance to sleep.   
  
Her task for the day was to review data from the implant procedure that had  
  
taken place the previous day. There was a seemingly-endless pile of the  
  
stuff that refused to grow any smaller no matter how hard she worked. Most  
  
of it was tedious, matching the projected values perfectly. Every now and  
  
then she would notice a small spike, which was dutifully recorded and   
  
catalogued. It was a horrifically boring job, but it had to be done and   
  
she was the one to do it.  
  
A strong craving for coffee struck her, and for a moment she sat smacking  
  
her lips as she weighed up her options. On one hand, a cup of coffee would  
  
do wonders for her mood and her work throughput. On the other hand, she   
  
knew that there would be a crowd of tedious lab staff clustered around the  
  
coffee machine; there always was. An annoying group of small-minded lab  
  
assistants, machinists and engineers who liked nothing better than to stand  
  
around and talk about the events of their unimportant days in minute   
  
detail.  
  
Gods, they'd put me to sleep before I got anywhere near the caffeine, she  
  
thought gloomily. It's not worth it.  
  
She liked talking about her own work, she admitted guiltily to herself, but  
  
listening to those boring co-workers of hers talk about -their- work was,   
  
in her opinion, the earthly equivalent of purgatory. At least her work was  
  
-interesting-.   
  
Well, it's -usually- interesting. She glanced at her monitor and wished   
  
for an interesting assignment, something to break the tedium.  
  
"Hey, Yoiko."  
  
"Yeah?" she asked, lifting her head. Her brother stood on the opposite   
  
side of her desk, an uneasy expression on his face. She regarded him for a  
  
moment. He had become increasingly listless and preoccupied over the past  
  
few weeks. Certainly, the Seraph Wing project could be directly blamed for  
  
his change in demeanour.   
  
The project was all-consuming for him; it was not a job, it was a mission.  
  
She was the first to admit it was an exciting project. She had enjoyed   
  
every moment of it. Everything, from the initial design meeting to her   
  
first conversation with Ukyo, had been enjoyable. Where she tried to   
  
enjoy herself, Ryoga tended to stress his way through the day. Still, he  
  
looked even more stressed than he usually did.  
  
"Whoa, Ryoga, you look as tired as I feel," she said, eyeing his ragged  
  
clothes and weary face. She smiled sweetly and tilted her head in the  
  
direction of the coffee machine. "Maybe you should get a drink. Hey, you  
  
could get me one too."  
  
"Not now," he said with a shake of his head. He glanced behind himself,  
  
then stepped around to her side of the desk. "I need to ask a favour."  
  
"What?" she asked, sitting up in surprise. Ryoga was definitely acting out  
  
of character now; something was up. "What is it?"  
  
"I want you to hack into the military subnet and get some information for  
  
me."  
  
"You want me to WHAT?" she squeaked, colour draining from her face.   
  
"Shh!" Ryoga hissed, glancing around as he slapped a hand over her mouth.   
  
"Keep your voice down!"  
  
Yoiko's workstation was, thankfully, situated in a relatively isolated   
  
corner of the laboratory. She was a jack-of-all-trades, assisting the   
  
system administrator as well as her big brother. This meant a multitude of  
  
perks; a relatively private location where her activities could not easily   
  
be observed by the average user was one example.   
  
"Why on Earth would you want to do -that-? They military net has nothing   
  
to do with us!" Yoiko said as Ryoga removed his hand, her voice lowered. A  
  
pair of researchers walked by, guiding a trio of assistants as they carried  
  
a heavy piece of equipment, a jumble of cables and metal sheets, toward the  
  
far side of the lab.  
  
Ryoga waited until they were gone before speaking. "I need to find out   
  
what Alpha brought aboard with Ukyo. I don't have the necessary clearance,  
  
but I know you can get in without being detected."  
  
"I could get in trouble," Yoiko insisted, glancing over Ryoga's shoulders   
  
at a nearby scientist. The man peered at her for what felt like too long   
  
before returning to his work. She let out a sigh of relief; it seemed   
  
Ryoga's nervousness was contagious.   
  
"I know you can get in anonymously. It's me that'll get into trouble, not   
  
you," Ryoga insisted. "Do it from someone else's workstation if you have   
  
to. Just make sure it's done, and leave the consequences to me."  
  
"I dunno, Ryoga," Yoiko said with a sigh. The laboratory was packed with   
  
research staff and their assistants; this was hardly the place to be having  
  
such a conversation. "It wouldn't be right."  
  
"The military thinks it can keep me out of the loop just because I'm not in  
  
a uniform anymore. I just want to know what's going on, is all. They're   
  
not telling us everything. I have a feeling there's a lot more to this  
  
than it seems."  
  
"You expect me to believe that?" Yoiko asked with a shake of her head. "I  
  
know you too well for that line to work on me. What did Ukyo say to   
  
convince you to break the rules like this?"  
  
"There's something about this ... Seriatim. I know I've heard the name  
  
before. It has to mean something."  
  
"Seriatim?"  
  
"Come on, Yoiko, I know you can do it. You're the only one I can trust."  
  
"Of -course- I can do it, I'm just not sure if it's a good idea," Yoiko  
  
countered. She lowered her voice further. "I mean, the security around   
  
those logs is going to be pretty intense."  
  
"If anyone can get past it, you can. It's not such a big deal. I just   
  
want to look, that's all. I'll be back soon to check up on it, okay?"  
  
She sighed, defeated. "Fine. You owe me one," she called after her   
  
brother as he left. Shaking her head, she muttered to herself, "Hell, you  
  
owe me about ten for this."   
  
"You're the best, Yoiko," Ryoga enthused, flashing her a grin as he spun on  
  
his heels and started toward the door. He called over his shoulder,   
  
"Thanks!"  
  
"Be careful what you wish for, Yoiko," she said to herself as she started  
  
tapping at her keyboard.  
  
* * *  
  
Colonel Jonathan Hunter leaned back in his chair, resting his chin upon the  
  
back of one hand as he considered the situation. He always enjoyed   
  
returning to his office; it was his sanctuary, a calm haven away from the  
  
constant struggle of commanding soldiers. He closed his eyes and enjoyed   
  
the quiet, trying to ignore the voice in his mind that reminded him such   
  
solitude never lasted for very long aboard a submarine.  
  
A buzzing noise filled his office; repetitive and insistent, drilling into  
  
his eardrums. He sighed, and opened his eyes again.  
  
Damn it.  
  
Leaning forward, he tapped the flashing button upon his desk. The   
  
communication channel opened with a familiar chirp, but the display screen  
  
stayed uncharacteristically blank. He stared for a moment at it before   
  
noticing the small flashing words in the lower left corner of the screen.  
  
Audio only. Great; it's the boss.  
  
"Give me an update, Colonel," came the voice of his employer, gravelly and  
  
deep. It belonged to a man he did not know, a member of the council he had  
  
never met - employer anonymity was one of the conditions of his contract.  
  
Hunter's inherent distrust continually nagged him about such an   
  
arrangement, but he had been instructed by his superiors in the military   
  
that this man was to be looked after, and he was not one to disobey orders.  
  
"Everything is proceeding smoothly," he said, leaning back in his chair   
  
once again. "We are on schedule."  
  
"And the Wing?"  
  
"The second phase has been successfully implanted. The subject is resting   
  
now; she will begin Wing combat training tomorrow morning."  
  
"Good. No complications, I presume?"  
  
"None," Hunter replied. One half of him objected to this continual   
  
babysitting; he was a man of his own means, he did not need this stranger  
  
peering over his shoulder. The other half reminded him that his current   
  
employer was far less of an irritant than some of his COs had been. "We   
  
are currently enroute to Okinawa as planned."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Hunter asked, taken by surprise.  
  
"There has been a change of plans. The Captain has been instructed to   
  
divert the Leviathan Spring to Hokkaido."  
  
"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Hunter asked, unable to completely conceal  
  
his anger at being left out of the loop.  
  
"Irrelevant. You are being informed now. Once you arrive, you will   
  
receive further instructions. Have the Wing ready."  
  
"Understood," Hunter replied, irritated. He knew better than to argue.  
  
There was another chirp, and the channel was closed. Hunter scowled and   
  
stroked his chin, pondering this development. He was being well   
  
compensated for this babysitting mission, but his employer's annoying   
  
nature made him wonder if he was being compensated well enough.  
  
* * *  
  
"So, what have you got?" Ryoga asked, his face startling Yoiko as it popped  
  
into view over her monitor.   
  
"Don't sneak up on me like that," she groused. He disarmed her with a   
  
smile, and she beckoned him over. "C'mere, look at this."  
  
Ryoga walked around behind her and leaned in over her shoulder, peering at  
  
the contents of her screen. She awaited his reaction and was suitably   
  
rewarded when he gave a low whistle, obviously impressed.  
  
"Sundry personal items transported aboard the Leviathan Spring include   
  
clothing, three small pouches containing gunpowder, two throwing knives and  
  
one sword," Yoiko read from the screen, pointing at each item as she listed  
  
it. "All were stored in secure locker A47."  
  
"Damn it," Ryoga breathed. "I don't have security access to those lockers.  
  
If it were in a 'B' locker, or a 'C' locker, maybe - but they're not going  
  
to let me near an 'A' without a good reason."  
  
"You'd never get anywhere without me," Yoiko commented, with an exaggerated  
  
roll of her eyes. She held up a piece of paper, which Ryoga took and began  
  
to read.  
  
"It turns out that you need to do some DNA analysis on Ukyo's personal   
  
belongings, as we believe there may be blood from another source on them,"  
  
Yoiko said with a devious smile upon her face. "That work order will get   
  
you into that locker without a problem. Came straight from the Colonel  
  
himself, so you won't get asked any tricky questions. Oh, yeah - the code   
  
for locker A47 is 3392. Don't forget it."  
  
"This is impressive," Ryoga said, admiring Yoiko's handiwork. "I'd never  
  
guess it was fake if I didn't know better. You've really done your   
  
homework here. Nicely done."  
  
"What else did you expect?" Yoiko said, flashing a smile. "I do quality  
  
work - that's why they hired me."  
  
* * *  
  
Ryoga wiped sweat from his palms onto his lab coat as he waited for the   
  
sentry to finish reading the work order. Yamaguchi was the sentry's name,  
  
according to his name tag, anyway. Ryoga could not recall seeing the man  
  
before, but then soldiers came and soldiers went aboard the Spring, it did  
  
not surprise him to see ones he didn't recognise.  
  
How long can it take to read that? Does he suspect something? Gods, maybe  
  
this was a bad idea after all. He has to suspect something. Come on   
  
already, say something!   
  
He fidgeted as the large, heavy-set soldier pored over the work order. It   
  
was a simple, one-page document; it was worrying in the extreme that it was  
  
taking so long to be accepted. Either the guard was stupid, or suspicious.  
  
Ryoga hoped with all his heart for the former.   
  
The perpetually puzzled look upon Yamaguchi's face gave him hope. It was   
  
obvious that the duty of guarding a room tasked this man; the unexpected  
  
arrival of a visitor was clearly too much for him.  
  
"I think I'd better call and confirm this order," Yamaguchi said at length,  
  
obviously struggling with its content.  
  
"I think we both know that isn't necessary," Ryoga replied, playing it   
  
cool.   
  
Since the incident that cost him the use of his leg, Colonel Hunter had   
  
taken Ryoga under his metaphorical wing. Discharged from military service,  
  
he was given what was seen by the remaining troops as an easy posting in   
  
the research department.  
  
This had the side-effect of casting him forever in the role of Colonel's   
  
lackey with the majority of the soldiers. It was an unfair and unfounded   
  
assumption on the part of the troops, one he loathed; but on this occasion,  
  
he hoped to take advantage of it.  
  
"I guess not," Yamaguchi conceded. It had taken him a long time to decide   
  
to call for clarification; Ryoga's objection had obviously sent him into a   
  
tailspin. "You're pretty friendly with the Colonel after all."  
  
"Wasting his time with this is just going to get him pissed off at you,"  
  
Ryoga said in agreement, with a very convincing nod of his head. "You   
  
probably don't want to get the CO mad at you, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah ... yeah. You're right. Okay, you can go in," Yamaguchi said at   
  
last, returning the paper to Ryoga. "Just don't make a mess."  
  
"Don't worry. Nobody'll even know I was there," Ryoga replied with a   
  
smile.  
  
* * *  
  
Secure Block A was an unexpectedly large room, imbued with a surprisingly  
  
dank and musty atmosphere despite the fluorescent lights overhead and the  
  
gaping ventilation ducts that lined the floor. The incessant drone of air  
  
circulation fans was far louder than at any other place Ryoga had been -   
  
perhaps due to the lack of other noises to distract him from it.  
  
Row upon row of sleek metal squares lined the walls of the room, each   
  
identified with a small number that was engraved into the metal above a  
  
small keypad. It was a similar layout to Secure Block B and C, although   
  
neither of those rooms had keypads upon the lockers. This room, Block A,  
  
was obviously intended for the most sensitive of information.  
  
Why would clothes and a sword warrant such security?  
  
There was a small railing along the floor in front of the lockers, and at  
  
each corner of the room a ladder stood, mounted upon the rail. Gripping  
  
the ladder, Ryoga marched to locker A17 and peered upwards. The first   
  
digit referred to the row, the second the column. He gave silent thanks  
  
that he only had to climb three rows; climbing a ladder with only one   
  
fully operational leg was no mean feat.  
  
A swift kick locked the ladder's feet into place, preventing it from   
  
sliding side to side during his ascent. He leaned his cane against locker  
  
A17 and, after only a moment's hesitation, hoisted himself up onto the   
  
ladder.  
  
It was a slow, arduous climb - the combination of an unstable leg and   
  
sweaty palms almost proving his downfall on several occasions - but after   
  
a relatively short time he managed to clamber up to the fourth row. It was  
  
a testament to his upper body strength that he was able to climb a ladder  
  
at all; his shattered leg left him with only his arms to pull himself   
  
upwards, relegating his remaining leg to a supporting role.  
  
He took a moment to catch his breath as he looked at locker A47, an   
  
innocuous and unremarkable locker that for all intents and purposes was   
  
identical to every other locker in the room. They all held their secrets,  
  
he knew, but it was 47's turn to reveal its treasures to him.  
  
3-3-9-2.  
  
Each digit he entered resulted in a pleasant beep from the keypad, its   
  
software apparently satisfied with his input. There was a loud clunk as   
  
the locking mechanism disengaged and a quiet hiss as the hydraulic   
  
mechanism slowly slid the locker open for him.  
  
The metal door was one side of a long, rectangular drawer, the interior the  
  
same metallic silver as the exterior, save for 'A47' marked in military  
  
green paint on the rear side. With a 'thunk', the drawer locked into the  
  
open position. He let out a sigh of relief and silently thanked Yoiko for   
  
providing him the correct code.   
  
Hooking his foot around the ladder to hold himself steady, he leaned over  
  
the drawer and peered down at its contents. The interior seemed cavernous  
  
and its contents meagre; a set of clothes lay neatly folded in the rear,   
  
with the two throwing knives - sharp and polished to reflect the   
  
fluorescent lights with an impressive shine - placed atop them.  
  
Three brown pouches lay in front of the clothes, seemingly made from a  
  
thick canvas. Each was tied off at the top with a thin string, a length of  
  
which protruded a short distance - a simple fuse. A primitive grenade, he  
  
realised, admiring Ukyo's resourcefulness. Perhaps this girl really was  
  
cut out to be a soldier after all ....  
  
Casting such thoughts aside, he reached across and grasped the sword that  
  
lay against the far wall of the drawer. He knew very little about swords,  
  
having only ever held one in his life, and that only for a brief moment,   
  
but even with his lack of experience he was instantly aware of just how   
  
-light- this sword was. He lofted the weapon, still contained in its   
  
scabbard, and peered closely at it. The weight was barely discernible; it   
  
was as light as a feather.  
  
"Strange," he commented to himself, looking up and down the length of the  
  
scabbard. Its upper half was covered in an ornate spiral design, intricate  
  
detail carved into the casing, but the lower half was bare and featureless.  
  
The handle felt warm in his hand, its presence alone filling him with a   
  
vague nervousness.   
  
There was ... something unusual about the sword. It grew warmer the   
  
tighter he gripped it, as if it were urging him on. A compelling curiosity  
  
filled him - why was this sword hidden from scrutiny? Why had none of the  
  
analysis staff been told of its existence? Why was he violating a dozen  
  
regulations and ignoring security protocol to get a look at it? He might   
  
have done such a thing a few years ago, before the incident, but in his   
  
recent life he had calmed, become more conservative. Why, then, was he   
  
going to such lengths for her? Was it to satisfy her curiosity or his own?  
  
Both, he decided. It was a safe answer, and one that allowed him to push  
  
the question aside. Slowly, cradling the sword with all the care one might  
  
a newborn baby, he tugged it slightly from its scabbard.  
  
A furious white light burst free from within the scabbard, a tremendous   
  
pulse that seemed to rock the room itself with sheer force. A horrified,  
  
wailing scream filled the air, a piercing cry that sent Ryoga reeling. He  
  
swayed wildly back and forth on the ladder, every instinct commanding him   
  
to escape from the painful light and sound; but the light was so bright he  
  
could not see his hands to sheath the weapon.  
  
The ladder toppled forward, its once-sturdy metal crumpling under the sheer  
  
weight of the sonic onslaught. Ryoga cried out as his support gave way,  
  
his body tumbling to the floor below. Fortune was on his side; the sword   
  
fell from his grasp and landed handle-first, the impact driving it home and  
  
sealing away the horrors within. He fell hard to the ground, the impact  
  
driving the air from his lungs.  
  
The sword balanced perfectly upon its end for what seemed like an age   
  
before finally tipping over and clattering harmlessly to the floor below.   
  
His ears rung from the noise, his eyes watered from the sheer intensity of   
  
the light, and his mind swam in a nauseating dizziness. He lay completely   
  
still, breathing raggedly, forcing air into his lungs. Slowly his senses  
  
returned to him, and he tried to explain to himself what he had just seen.  
  
Try as he might, though, he could only conjure up two words.  
  
"Holy shit."  
  
* * *  
  
Yoiko tapped idly at her keyboard and let out a sigh. The screen saver had  
  
come on again. It had been almost forty minutes since Ryoga had left. The  
  
task he'd set her was simple and she had accomplished it easily, but there  
  
was a nagging thought that lingered in the back of her mind, clawing at the  
  
edge of her consciousness. Guilt, perhaps, or worry.   
  
She knew the systems onboard the Spring very well, but there were   
  
classified areas she knew nothing about. One of those areas - the  
  
inventory and access logs for Secure Block A - was no longer a mystery to   
  
her. She had broken in with ease, and taken a copy of the file. It had   
  
only taken a few seconds, and the precautions she had taken meant the   
  
transaction was untraceable.   
  
She was an expert; she knew it, she believed it, and yet she still wondered  
  
if she had made a mistake, if she had left behind some clue, some oversight  
  
that would cost her, perhaps her whole career. She had long erased the  
  
file, but she couldn't shake the feeling that a flag had been raised   
  
somewhere, that someone knew what she had done.  
  
Her phone rang, startling her. She clasped her hand to her chest and   
  
swallowed, a sense of dread flooding into her body. Part of her expected   
  
the voice at the other end to be that of security, enquiring as to the   
  
reason her terminal had accessed a restricted area. Her imagination leapt  
  
to action, filling her mind with images of burly security guards   
  
surrounding her cubicle, pointing high-calibre weaponry at her.  
  
A shaky hand gripped the phone receiver and slowly, cautiously, lifted it  
  
to her ear.  
  
"Hibiki," she said, as formally as possible given the shaking of her voice.  
  
"Yoiko, it's me."  
  
Ryoga, she thought, a wave of relief crashing over her whole body. She   
  
slumped back into her chair and let out a long sigh, raising her other hand  
  
to her forehead as she closed her eyes. Relief was quickly followed by   
  
irritation.  
  
"You scared me to death," she hissed. "What took so long?"   
  
"Listen to me very carefully, Yoiko. That sword is no ordinary sword."  
  
"What happened?" she asked, her curiosity rising. He sounded really   
  
disturbed; frightened, even. "What is it?"   
  
"I ... I don't know. It's big. Gods, it's big. Yoiko, I ... I saw ...."  
  
"Calm down," she said, as soothingly as she could manage given her own  
  
frayed nerves. She could hear his strained breath. "Ryoga, you have to  
  
calm down."  
  
"You don't understand," he replied, pulling himself together. "I had to   
  
get it out of there. I couldn't just leave it where it was. I've got it  
  
with me now."  
  
"What?!" Yoiko yelped, jolting to an upright position. The phone channel  
  
was encrypted - they all were aboard the sub - but she suddenly felt as   
  
though every eye in the laboratory was upon her, that everyone in the sub  
  
had heard; that by merely hearing the words her brother spoke she had   
  
somehow already committed the crime.   
  
"I don't have time to explain, Yoiko. There's something about this sword -  
  
I can't leave it locked away in that drawer. I have to find out more about  
  
it. I need you to access the inventory of A47 and remove the sword from   
  
the list. If it stays in the inventory, they're going to notice it's   
  
missing."  
  
"You have got to be kidding. You have GOT to be kidding," Yoiko stammered,  
  
unable to piece together a coherent counterargument. Entering to look was  
  
one thing - but modifying military logs? That was grounds for ... she did  
  
not even want to imagine the punishment for such a crime. "You TOOK it?"  
  
"I'm not kidding. You'll have to modify the deposit logs for that drawer  
  
too."  
  
"Even if I do, they're still going to notice sooner or later."  
  
"I know, Yoiko, I know. I had no choice. I just need some time to think."  
  
"The Colonel told me to head to the recovery ward to bring the final phase   
  
online. He wants me to introduce Ukyo to the personality. He's going to  
  
find out if I stay here to mess with logs."  
  
"What? Why?" he asked, surprised. "She's supposed to activate the   
  
personality herself. Why are you doing it manually? It could undermine   
  
the whole process if she doesn't discover it herself!"  
  
"I don't know," Yoiko replied, resting her forehead in one hand. She let   
  
out a breath, pleased to have jolted her brother back to some semblance of   
  
normalcy. "They've put the process on the fast track, and I don't know   
  
why. I've just been told to do it, so that's what I'm going to do. I was  
  
worried you wouldn't call before I left."  
  
"Damn it," Ryoga replied, frustration evident in his voice. "That could  
  
lead to complications. I guess we have no choice but to proceed as  
  
instructed. Be careful, okay?"  
  
"You're not coming?"  
  
"I can't. Not with ... not with this thing. This is more important than  
  
Seraph Wing, Yoiko. Can you handle things on your own for a while?"  
  
She felt a nervous sweat upon her brow; her whole face felt drenched, she   
  
was sure someone would notice any moment. "I guess, Ryoga."  
  
"See what you can do to cover my tracks for a few minutes, then head to the  
  
ward. I told Ukyo I'd be back soon. Tell her I'm going to be a couple of  
  
hours. You can do a more comprehensive delete when you get back. As long  
  
as you can throw up some kind of cover, I should be okay."   
  
"What are you planning to do?"  
  
"I ... I can't explain. The personality should keep you both busy for a   
  
while. I'll come to the recovery ward in an hour or two. I'll explain it  
  
to you then."  
  
"Okay, I gue--" she began, but stopped as the phone line went dead. She  
  
lowered the receiver back into its cradle with fingers that had long since  
  
gone white and numb.   
  
More important than Seraph Wing? Nothing was more important than Seraph  
  
Wing - not to him. It had been the singular focal point of his life for  
  
two years. What on Earth could be more important?  
  
What the hell is going on, Ryoga?  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo sighed and stared up at the ceiling above her bed. The EKG monitor  
  
near her bed bleeped with irritating regularity, each sound drilling into   
  
her head, worsening her headache. She had been lying absolutely still for   
  
- she didn't even know how long. There was an alarm clock on the table   
  
near her bed, but she couldn't turn her head to look at it.  
  
Where are you, Ryoga?  
  
He had been gone for what felt like an age. She knew beyond the faintest  
  
glimmer of a doubt that he would do what he had said, that he would return  
  
with her Seriatim. She trusted him implicitly, instinctively. He was a   
  
good person. He would do what he said he would. It was just a matter of   
  
time. Always a matter of time.  
  
Many times over the course of her stay she had considered making an escape.  
  
The soldiers, while well-trained and well-armed, were nowhere near her   
  
level of skill, speed or strength. The gap was so large she had taken to   
  
deliberately making mistakes, purposefully holding herself back during   
  
training exercises so as not to reveal too much about herself.  
  
Compared to her, they were slow, clumsy, and weak. They all were. She was  
  
beginning to understand why nearly everyone aboard regarded her with such   
  
apprehension. Fortunately, there were those who did not treat her with   
  
suspicion.  
  
Her thoughts returned to Ryoga. It was because of him that she had stayed.  
  
He was ... a friend. He trusted her and she trusted him. It was a strange  
  
feeling, a subtle warmth that infused her thoughts of him. She had never   
  
had a friend before. At some base level she wanted to please him, to do   
  
what he asked, simply to remain his friend.   
  
Am I really so simple?  
  
She sighed. She had stayed aboard the submarine, she had allowed them to   
  
implant any number of electronic implants into her body. She had allowed   
  
them to experiment upon her, to study her, to poke and prod and observe   
  
her. Because of him. For him.   
  
I suppose I am.  
  
If she were to escape from this endless experimentation, would he come with  
  
her? Of course not - the very thought was ludicrous. While she knew she  
  
could survive a swim to the surface, he most certainly could not. Even if   
  
they did make it, where would they go?   
  
No. He promised her that he would take care of her, and that they would   
  
lead her to Ranma. That was all that mattered. She trusted him - she  
  
would stay.  
  
There was a hiss and a thunk; then the patter of footsteps upon the metal  
  
floor of the ward. Ukyo narrowed her eyes and listened. The footsteps   
  
were light, quiet. Too small to be Ryoga. No, that was ....  
  
"Yoiko."  
  
"How did you know?" came Yoiko's voice, full of surprise.  
  
"I just knew," Ukyo replied, a smile quirking her face. Her instincts had  
  
served her well on the hunt. Identifying Yoiko by her footsteps was   
  
child's play.  
  
She appeared in Ukyo's view, a curious expression on her face. "I've been  
  
told to brief you on the new components we've added to the Seraph Wing."  
  
"Oh?" Ukyo asked, rolling her eyes downward to glance at the girl. She   
  
watched as Yoiko placed a small, metallic briefcase upon her recovery bed.  
  
The girl was nervous, it seemed. Ukyo wondered for a moment what had   
  
unnerved the girl so.  
  
"Yeah. I, uh," Yoiko paused and glanced behind her before continuing in a   
  
hushed tone, "I spoke to Ryoga too. He said he would be a couple of   
  
hours."  
  
Ukyo nodded, but said nothing. "So, what have you added?"  
  
Yoiko blinked, a look of irritation flashing across her features as she  
  
realised her unasked question would go unanswered. "Well, we've implanted  
  
the external Frame, which extends and amplifies the energy field emitted by  
  
the internal Core."  
  
"What does that mean?" Ukyo asked evenly. She knew Yoiko enjoyed her   
  
technical jargon, but for now wanted her answers in layman's terms.  
  
"You already saw the shield effect of the Wing, right?" Yoiko asked. Ukyo  
  
nodded, and the girl continued. "By itself, the Core can only project a   
  
weak field around you, and only about five millimetres away from your skin.  
  
The Frame is an amplifier, which boosts the effectiveness of the shield   
  
as well as allowing you a measure of control over it."  
  
"It stopped a bullet, and you call that weak?" Ukyo asked, incredulous.  
  
"The primary energy shield could stop a bullet, sure. It could probably  
  
stop a dozen or so before it overloaded. Once you run that shield through   
  
the Frame, though, you could hold back the gods themselves," Yoiko said   
  
with a proud smile. "Here, look at this."  
  
Ukyo nodded and let Yoiko take hold of her left arm. The arm was turned  
  
slightly, bringing the elbow and outer edge into view. A thin black line,  
  
a plastic seam, ran the length of her arm, only to disappear into her   
  
wrist, its end marked by a small circular plug that extruded slightly from  
  
her skin.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Ukyo asked, suddenly disturbed by the fact she had  
  
not even noticed the plug's presence. She should have felt it.  
  
"That is a Frame fibre. It carries the signal from the Core, amplifies and  
  
projects it outwards to create the shield. The segment connects to other  
  
fibres along your other arm, legs, torso, neck, and the back of your head.  
  
It was quite a job to get THAT one put in without having to shave off half   
  
of your hair, let me tell you."  
  
Ukyo raised her right hand toward the thin seam, and with a brief glance to  
  
Yoiko for approval, gingerly placed the tips of her fingers upon it. It  
  
was smooth, cool, feeling very much like metal. She bent her arm, and the  
  
seam bent easily with it.  
  
"It continues into your hand, but the fibres there are subdermal. They  
  
have to be, they're thinner in order to be more precise. Far too thin to  
  
be hanging around on your skin. Especially given how much punching you  
  
grunts tend to do."  
  
Ukyo clenched her fist and released it, regarding her hand with   
  
apprehension. She could feel no difference at all in her fingers as she  
  
wriggled them back and forth. If Yoiko had not told her of the fibre's   
  
presence, she would most likely never have known.  
  
"What about the plug?" she asked as her right hand brushed against it. She  
  
lingered there for a moment, fingers lightly touching the smooth metal.  
  
"That's a control port," Yoiko replied, her tone growing increasingly happy  
  
at Ukyo's continued interest in her handiwork. "The Wing is controlled by  
  
a neural interface, but there is a control pad that attaches to your arm  
  
just in case. You never know, y'know?"  
  
"A ... neural interface?" Ukyo asked, bewildered.  
  
"Yeah. You think, it acts. It's designed to respond to your own thought  
  
patterns, so if you start to think about protecting yourself then it will  
  
respond in kind. I can't tell you exactly how to control it, because you  
  
know better than I do. It's a personal thing."  
  
"So I just ... will the shield into existence?"  
  
"Exactly. It sounds weird, I know, but it'll be second nature before you  
  
know it. It's designed to be. You'll always have the control pad handy,  
  
just in case, so you don't have anything to worry about."  
  
"So where is this control pad?" Ukyo asked, fingering the port   
  
apprehensively. She did not like this gadget protruding from within her.  
  
"I've got it right here," Yoiko said. She unlocked and opened the   
  
briefcase she had been carrying and from within it extracted what appeared  
  
to be a black metal bracer. With a gentle tap the bracer opened. "Here,  
  
give me your arm."  
  
Ukyo nodded somewhat apprehensively and, after a moment's hesitation,   
  
raised her left arm toward the small girl. The bracer was closed around  
  
her wrist, where it locked into place with a cheerful chirping sound. Ukyo  
  
clenched her fist and felt the smooth, cool metal against her skin.  
  
On the topmost side of the bracer was a small transparent panel,   
  
illuminated with a number of graphs, information and displays, glowing a  
  
variety of pastel greens and oranges.  
  
"Just one more thing to do," Yoiko said as she reached over and tapped a  
  
small, virtual button upon the display.  
  
-Greetings, Ukyo.-  
  
Ukyo sat up with a start, eyes jolting wide as the voice snuck into her   
  
mind, seeming to come from just behind her ears. She whirled around as   
  
best she could to see who was talking to her; however, there was nobody  
  
there. Slowly she turned to face Yoiko, who had a wide smile upon her   
  
face.  
  
"I guess the personality has introduced itself," Yoiko said with a hint of  
  
amusement. "Go on, say hello."  
  
-Greetings, Ukyo,- repeated the voice, quiet, but firm. It was a male   
  
voice, a voice that seemed somehow familiar. -I am Seraph Wing.-  
  
"H ... hello?" Ukyo spoke uncertainly, her face betraying her utter   
  
confusion.  
  
-It is an honour to meet you, My Lady,- Seraph Wing said, its voice somehow  
  
conveying the essence of a deep bow. -I have been anticipating this moment  
  
for some time.-  
  
"Who ... what are you?" Ukyo asked, unsure of where to look. It was   
  
distinctly unnerving to speak to a disembodied voice.  
  
-You do not need to speak for your words to be clear,- Seraph Wing replied.  
  
-Push your words toward me with your mind and I will hear them.-  
  
-What are you?- Ukyo asked again, focussing the words as well she could.   
  
It was not quite thinking per se; it was a subtly different process, a   
  
supersensory to-and-fro of energy between herself and Seraph Wing that she  
  
could perceive even though she did not know how she did so.  
  
-I am one of many facets of the Core. I am a twelfth-generation AI  
  
construct, operating from a neural subprocessor implanted at the base of  
  
your spine. My function is to provide diagnostic information, tactical  
  
updates, and any other form of assistance or advice I can render. I am  
  
Seraph Wing, and I am at your service.-  
  
-I ... I don't understand.-  
  
-How best can I put it? Think of me as a guide.-  
  
-A guide?-  
  
-Allow me to demonstrate, My Lady.-  
  
Ukyo's eyes widened as a flood of information filled her mind. Suddenly  
  
she became aware that the distance between herself and Yoiko was exactly   
  
1.72 metres, that the ambient temperature was 21.3 degrees Celsius, that  
  
one of the fluorescent tubes overhead had developed a malfunction that   
  
caused a near-imperceptible flicker of dimness, forty times a second.  
  
The information was not presented to her in any quantifiable sense; she  
  
simply knew these things, as if she had always known them. Closing her  
  
eyes, she let the information wash over her.  
  
There was a guard patrolling the corridor outside the ward. His body   
  
temperature was slightly higher than his average, his muscles moved   
  
somewhat stiffly, his breath was ever-so-slightly laboured. He was clearly  
  
coming down with the flu, even if he did not know it himself just yet.   
  
There was a small security camera watching the guard, rotating through   
  
twenty-five degrees every ten seconds, oscillating back and forth to cover  
  
the corridor. The camera's tiny actuator clicked quietly, sending a small   
  
electric motor into action; it whirred quietly as it slowly panned the  
  
camera through its angle of rotation, before slowing to a halt. The noises  
  
were quiet, but to Ukyo they were crystal clear.  
  
Yoiko's breath was quickening, her heart was beating faster; Ukyo could   
  
perceive all of it. The girl was excited to see what would come of Seraph   
  
Wing's activation, the physiological signs were a glowing neon light that   
  
illuminated her mental state quite clearly.  
  
-Enough, enough,- Ukyo called, and the tsunami of information was reduced  
  
to barely a trickle. -I get the picture. That was ... amazing.-  
  
-Thank you, My Lady.-  
  
"So what do you think of him?" Yoiko asked as Ukyo opened her eyes.  
  
Ukyo let out a deep breath. The sudden onslaught of information was like  
  
nothing she had ever experienced before. It was as though a second set of   
  
eyes had been opened to her, an acute sense of the world around her that  
  
could describe in the most minute detail everything around her. It was  
  
nothing short of mindboggling.   
  
"I think ... wow."  
  
* * *  
  
Ryoga stared at the door. He had been standing motionless for almost a   
  
minute, head laden with thoughts. The sword was still in its scabbard,  
  
clutched closely to his side, concealed within his lab coat. To the casual  
  
observer, it simply appeared as if his hand were in his pocket. The weapon  
  
was suffused with warmth, a pleasant tingle of heat in his hand that made   
  
him wonder just what he was about to return to Ukyo.   
  
He had, over the past two hours, run a dozen tests on the sword. Each had  
  
been met with failure. He could only scan the scabbard; his memories of   
  
Storage Block A prevented him from trying to extract the blade from its   
  
shelter again. He could not even determine what the blade was made of, let  
  
alone what made it glow as it did. The puzzle was intensely troubling to  
  
him. As a scientist it disturbed him immensely to abandon such a mystery  
  
without solving it. As a human being, he wanted to be rid of the sword as  
  
soon as possible.  
  
He had wrestled with his conscience ever since finding the blade. How  
  
could he steal such a thing from a secure lock-up and hand it over to Ukyo  
  
without at least some knowledge of what it was? It was no ordinary blade,  
  
no ordinary weapon. How could he arm her with such a thing? Without the  
  
slightest inkling of its purpose?  
  
He had truly stepped into the lion's den. Even with Yoiko's help, they  
  
would discover his theft sooner or later. There was bound to be security  
  
camera footage; Yoiko would be able to delete it, but like the inventory  
  
such tampering would eventually be noticed. All he could do was to hope   
  
that, with Yoiko's assistance, he could stay one step ahead of them.  
  
His resolve wavered; he could take the sword back, restore the logs, tell  
  
Ukyo that he couldn't find the sword, and everything would be as it was.  
  
Or perhaps he could take the sword to the laboratory and run further tests  
  
on it; try to achieve something useful to offset the risk he was taking,  
  
rather than just giving it to her.  
  
Leaning more heavily upon his cane, he let out a sigh. His mind screamed  
  
at him to take the sword and examine it, study it, try to uncover its true  
  
meaning and purpose. His instincts compelled him to return the sword to  
  
its resting place and put it out of his mind. Despite all that, he knew he  
  
had to keep his promise. He had made the choice long ago; he knew he was  
  
simply trying to rationalise that decision.  
  
He -wanted- to give the sword to her, and any reason would do. The sword  
  
was hers. Morally, returning it to its owner was the right thing to do.  
  
That was rationalisation enough. He had discovered as much about it as he  
  
could on his own; he needed Ukyo's help to solve the mystery of the weapon.  
  
That was motivation enough.  
  
Steeling his jaw, he stepped forward, and the door hissed open.  
  
* * *  
  
Ukyo sat up as the door opened, and watched Ryoga step in, a surprised look  
  
upon his face. He moved swiftly into the room, letting the door close   
  
behind him before speaking.  
  
"What are you doing sitting up? I told you to be still! What if it had   
  
been the Colonel coming to check on you?"  
  
"I knew it was you," Ukyo replied.   
  
"You knew?"  
  
"I knew you were standing there. I could tell you were feeling either   
  
nervous or guilty, because you were sweating so much. Your posture and the   
  
extra weight you're putting on your cane told me your leg is acting up   
  
today. Hell, I recognised the smell of your breath, and knew you had tuna  
  
for dinner," Ukyo said with a crooked, slightly uncomfortable smile. "This  
  
is scary stuff, Ryoga."  
  
-I do not intend to frighten you, My Lady.-  
  
"You're conversing with the personality already?" Ryoga asked, shooting   
  
Yoiko an impressed glance. "You've been able to talk back to him? For how  
  
long?"  
  
-I know. This is just ... new to me, Seraph Wing.-  
  
"Two hours, thirteen minutes, and .... twenty-five seconds, apparently,"  
  
Ukyo replied. "You said you'd be two hours. You're late."  
  
"She took to him like a duck to water," Yoiko said as Ryoga looked to her  
  
in bewilderment. "It surprised me too."  
  
"This ... this is amazing," Ryoga stammered in astonishment. He staggered   
  
toward Ukyo's bed and propped himself up against it. "I thought it would  
  
take weeks, not hours, for you to learn how to speak to him."  
  
"Be careful," Ukyo admonished as Ryoga bumped her bed. "You're going to   
  
drop it if you're not careful."  
  
"Drop what?" Yoiko asked.  
  
"The sword he's trying to hide under his coat," Ukyo explained. She   
  
glanced at the weapon, which Seraph Wing automatically examined. It   
  
reported the weapon's length as ninety-six centimetres from end to end, its  
  
weight at a mere fifty grams. A sense of confusion trickled through her   
  
brain. It was not her own, and so she turned to Seraph Wing for an  
  
explanation.  
  
-I apologise,- Seraph Wing said. -I am unable to ascertain the composition  
  
of the weapon. Its molecular structure is unknown. It is far too light to  
  
be a metal, of that I am certain.-  
  
-I remember now. I ... think I know what it's made of. Gods, I think he's  
  
seen it too.-  
  
-My Lady?-  
  
"Ryoga," she said quietly, giving the startled-looking boy a smile. She   
  
reached out and took one of his hands. "Thank you for getting my sword. I  
  
appreciate the risk you took."  
  
"How did you know I--" Ryoga began, trailing off as Ukyo tapped the side of  
  
her head with a fingertip. He chuckled sheepishly and shook his head. "Of  
  
course."  
  
"So," Yoiko said with a not-so-subtle hint of impatience, "what's the deal  
  
with this sword?"  
  
"I wish I knew," Ryoga said, finally withdrawing the weapon from the   
  
shelter of his lab coat. "This thing scares the hell out of me. I've run   
  
a dozen different tests on it and I don't know anything more than when I  
  
started."  
  
Ukyo reached out for the weapon, and after a moment's hesitation, Ryoga   
  
handed it to her. She clasped his hand and nodded gratefully. Finally, it  
  
was in her hands again. A sense of relief washed over her, an inexplicable  
  
feeling of satisfaction.  
  
"What can you tell me about it?" Ryoga asked, intense curiosity written  
  
across his face. His eyes followed the sword as she raised it.  
  
"Not a lot," she admitted, gripping the weapon tightly. "I just ... I just  
  
know that it belongs to me. I remember it being mine."  
  
"So this is what the big fuss was about?" Yoiko asked incredulously. "That  
  
sword?"  
  
"There's more to it than you think," Ryoga replied, giving Ukyo a knowing  
  
glance.   
  
"Seriatim," she whispered, drawing the scabbard to her chest.  
  
-Seriatim. An unusual name. Why did you name it so?-  
  
-I didn't name it. What does the name mean?-  
  
-The word is derived from Latin speech. It means, quite literally, 'one   
  
after another'. If you did not name it, My Lady, who did?-  
  
-I ... I don't know.-  
  
"One after another," she said, running her hand along the scabbard's   
  
length. She glanced up at Ryoga, who had an expectant look upon his face.  
  
She knew merely by looking at him that he had been expecting something   
  
dramatic to happen the moment he handed the sword to her; that somehow all  
  
of his questions would be answered. She gave him a wan smile, unable to  
  
offer any comfort.  
  
She could not answer their questions. Nor could she answer her own.  
  
"Ukyo, I think it's for the best that you don't take it out of its   
  
scabbard until we understand it better," Ryoga said at length, obviously   
  
realising his questions would not be answered. "The military guys don't  
  
know you have it either, so keep it hidden."  
  
"Okay," she said with a nod. He was right; it was for the best to keep it  
  
hidden and sealed.  
  
"I'm going to study it, if you don't mind. I'll be asking you some   
  
questions over the next few days. I want to find out exactly what it's   
  
made of."  
  
"Of course, anything you want," Ukyo replied with a nod.  
  
"Can I see it?" Yoiko asked.  
  
"No," Ryoga replied before Ukyo could. "It's not coming out again."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's probably for the best," Ukyo said, sharing a glance with Ryoga. She  
  
recognised the look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before. She  
  
had no intention of inflicting that upon Yoiko.  
  
* * *  
  
Colonel Hunter frowned as he pored over the stacks of paper strewn across  
  
his expansive desk. Ship's operations reports, intelligence reports, duty  
  
rosters and training programs were scattered left, right and centre, tossed  
  
aside as he continued his search.   
  
He eventually reached the bottom of the pile, its final document a faded   
  
maintenance log detailing a routine service job on the aft power generation  
  
unit undertaken over two months prior.   
  
"Damn it," he muttered. Not a single reference to the course change. No  
  
details, no briefings, no discussions or meetings. An order to divert the  
  
sub that did not involve him could only have come from the Council, but he  
  
could find no records regarding it. A clandestine decision. Presumably,  
  
he was only informed because of the Wing.  
  
There was no facility located in Hokkaido. No real reason to visit there.  
  
Particularly when such a visit interrupted the scheduled offloading of the  
  
Council from the vessel. The course change, the sudden acceleration of the  
  
Seraph Wing integration, the change in training regime for Alpha and Bravo;  
  
it all pointed to a singular conclusion. He wanted to deny it, but he knew  
  
it was true.  
  
"They've found her. Gods, they're taking Seraph Wing straight to Ranma."  
  
He leaned back in his chair, the soft leather seeming unusually rough and  
  
uncomfortable. He was by no means a religious man, but even in his   
  
rational, logical mind he could not hold back a sense of inevitable,   
  
impending doom. A cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.  
  
He would soon find out if the Wing was all that the Phoenix had promised it   
  
would be. He hoped with all of his heart that it was. Ranma had to be   
  
stopped. An elder dragon spirit unleashed upon the world was not something  
  
he dared to contemplate.  
  
= = = =  
  
T E N  
  
= = = = 


	15. The Satyr, the Seraph, and the Scion

* * *

**T E N**

  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**   
_"The Satyr, the Seraph, and the Scion"_

* * *

Akane let her feet sink slightly into the waters of the Toyohira River, and sighed gratefully as the soothing water embraced her aching feet with its benignant touch. She smiled in amusement as she watched Ranma deftly hop from foot to foot. 

The river's current caught the tiny patches of ice created by her companion's touch and sent them gently drifting downstream toward the ocean. Her own foothold was rather more sturdy; the river itself held her, its current parting around her feet, leaving her standing upon a perfectly still circle of water.

Mt. Moiwa loomed ahead, seeming to tower over them despite its relatively modest five-hundred and thirty-one metre height. It served to mark the edge of the mountainous region to the west and the beginnings of the city of Sapporo to the east. In the winter, the slopes were coated in a thick dusting of light white snow, transforming the green giant into an enormous ski field. Locals and tourists alike tore down the mountainside with reckless abandon as often as the weather conditions would allow it.

Or so Ranma had said.

Their journey from Osaka to Hokkaido had been a long and arduous one, with barely a stop along the way. The past few days, spent trudging around or over mountain after mountain, had been the hardest part of the journey. They had crossed a seemingly-endless string of mountains, although Ranma had repeatedly assured her that the next mountain was the last.

Ranma had talked at great length, recounting the stories Happosai had told her. The old man spoke fondly of the White Illumination and the Snow Festival, celebrations that filled the city with light and cheer during the winter months, warming the temperament of the city despite the chill of the snow.

There was no such snow anywhere to be seen as Akane eyed the southwestern side of the mountain. In fact, the sun had been unusually strong that day, a change from the relatively cool days that had made the trek across Hokkaido a bearable experience. 

At least with the sun setting behind them the temperature was dropping as day gave way to a much cooler twilight. There were clouds in the sky, and the telltale prickling of Akane's skin told her it would rain soon. She smiled up at the clouds, coloured a deep red by the alpenglow, and hoped for the shower to begin.

Despite the length and difficulty of the trek, it was not entirely an unpleasant experience. The past three weeks had been a real change of pace as far as Ranma was concerned. Ranma had, following their disastrous attempt at infiltration in Osaka, adopted a more cheery disposition that reminded Akane of the girl she had met in her home so long ago. Similarly, she had felt her own mood lifting, despite the hardships of the journey.

Conversation had flowed more freely between them and Akane had found herself enjoying Ranma's company once more. Ranma had really opened to her, telling her in detail of the times Happosai had brought her to his home in the Shiroishi ward. That was where he was hiding now, Ranma had said, and so that was their destination.

From what she had been told, she had a feeling that she would like the city. She had never been to Hokkaido before, and after their extended separation from civilisation at large, the prospect of seeing a city again had her excited. Other than their overnight sojourn in Osaka, they had studiously avoided populated areas.

I can even call Dad, she thought to herself. It had been a long time since she had been near a phone for long enough to even consider calling anyone. She had wanted to in Osaka, but the urgency of their escape prevented that. She was determined to contact him again now that she had the chance, now that she was in contact with some technology again.

A droplet of water struck her nose, making her blink. It was joined by another, and another, and another, as the skies above opened and a light sprinkling of rain began. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh as the liquid ran over her face in tiny rivulets, soothing her muscles. 

"Hey, come on," came Ranma's voice. "We can't stop now. This rain is only going to get worse."

"I know, I know," Akane replied, slightly disappointed. Opening her eyes again she glanced to Ranma, who was standing on the far bank of the river. The droplets that fell in the redheaded girl's vicinity hardened into tiny balls of ice, some thudding into the ground around her, others bouncing off the top of her head. 

Ranma scowled in annoyance, the dozens of impacts threatening to spoil her previously cheery mood. Akane, berating herself for enjoying the rain when Ranma obviously hated it, stepped easily across the river and joined her companion on solid ground. Despite herself, she couldn't help a smile. 

*** * ***

The alarm had sounded twelve minutes prior. As per procedure, Alpha Team had quickly suited up, donning their combat fatigues and body armour. Once their weapons were checked they proceeded to the launch hangar. 

Ukyo had never actually entered the launch hangar before; their training simulations had always ended at the doorway to the hangar, where their performance would be assessed. Today, though, was different. This time, the alarm was real. 

The hangar was vast, with a startling array of helicopters and what Seraph Wing described as VTOL planes. The AI personality had explained the exploration, infiltration and interdiction roles of the various craft, as well as the expansive structure required to house them several days earlier as part of an overall discussion on the design of the vessel.

Despite the lecture, she found herself staring, open-mouthed, at the one spectacle she did not believe she would ever witness aboard the Leviathan Spring: sunlight. 

-The ceiling is retractable to allow aircraft launch, and reinforced with ultrastrong materials to prevent pressure implosion whilst underwater,- Seraph Wing dutifully explained, before proceeding into its own conjecture. -The Leviathan Spring is designed to operate even with this entire hangar flooded, but nevertheless, such an expansive egress in the hull must reduce the vessel's maximum depth by a considerable amount. The ability to launch aircraft must have been deemed a worthy exchange for such a handicap.-

-I didn't even know we'd surfaced,- she replied, shaking her head in wonderment. 

-I apologise, My Lady,- Seraph Wing replied. -I should have told you.-

The ground beneath them rumbled, as the platform she was standing upon - along with the other members of Alpha Team, Colonel Hunter, a number of ground crew and two transport helicopters - began to rise. A loud whirring sound echoed through the cavern as they were lifted slowly toward the ceiling, the sliver of sunlight growing ever wider above them.

"Several days ago, surveillance operatives reported sightings of Ranma Saotome on the island of Hokkaido. As you may or may not know, the Leviathan Spring was immediately dispatched to investigate these reports," Hunter began. "Our investigation has paid off - fifty minutes ago, Saotome was sighted near the top of Mt. Moiwa, accompanied by an unknown female."

Ukyo's ears prickled at the mention of Ranma's name. They had found her?

-Did you know about this?-

-No, My Lady,- Seraph Wing replied. -I have no access to classified military systems. This is the first I have heard of it.-

"We have been given authorisation to engage Saotome directly. We have to hurry if we're going to take advantage of this situation. This is going to be a fluid operation that will involve both Alpha fireteams, so pay attention," Colonel Hunter called, his booming voice drowning out the insistent whirr of the platform.

"The primary fireteam, henceforth designated Red, will be led by Scar," he continued. "You're going to be the ones on the ground doing the dirty work here."

"Sir," Scar acknowledged with a curt nod of his head. He was, like all of them, fully outfitted in combat gear, his helmet clutched under one arm. The multitude of grenades and ammunition strapped to a bandoleer that ran across his chest gave him an extremely intimidating appearance; one that was reinforced by the determined expression upon his face.

"You will deployed by chopper on the southwestern side of the mountain. From the LZ you are to fan out and surround the targets without arousing their suspicion. You are to provide fire support for Wing, who will subdue Saotome. Eliminating her is the primary objective of this mission, and must be achieved. Her companion is of secondary importance. Once she's been taken care of, the body is to be brought to the Spring for analysis. Any questions?"

"Understood, Sir," Scar confirmed. "No questions, Sir."

"The secondary fireteam, designated Blue, will be led by Fox," Hunter continued. "Your chopper will remain on station to provide backup in case things go awry. You have no fixed objective; instructions will be communicated to you if the need arises. You are not to hit the ground unless directly ordered to do so. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Fox - a gravelly voice that called over Ukyo's shoulder - acknowledged. She could see the faces of his team with her spatial sense, Seraph Wing accurately reproducing every detail in her mind, but she did not recognise any of them. The AI dutifully searched personnel databases to fill in the blanks, and filed a note for Ukyo to review their profiles at a later date.

"Bravo Team will remain on standby for the duration of the operation, just in case. They will not be deployed to the field unless the situation demands it. Their two fireteams are designated Gold and Silver."

Ukyo felt her stomach tighten as the platform neared its apex. The sunlight was a deep shade of red, silhouetting the Colonel as the platform slowed to a stop, flush with the top of the hull. Not daring to move but longing to look around, she reached out with her spatial sense and examined the outside world for the first time in far too long.

The Leviathan Spring had surfaced quite some distance off the coast, far enough that the land was little more than a green line on the horizon. It protruded high above the water, its hull rocking back and forth ever so slightly with the ocean swell. Salt air filled her lungs and she took a deep breath, ignoring Seraph Wing's measurements of its moisture content.

The engines of two helicopters churned into life, the rotors' motion kicking up strong gusts of air. She had to admit, it felt good to be outside again.

"This opportunity has been presented to us on a silver platter, ladies and gentlemen," Hunter yelled, over the noise of the choppers. "You are authorised to use any and all force to subdue the target. Do whatever it takes."

*** * ***

The city of Sapporo stretched out as far as the Akane could see. The metropolis sparkled a dozen different colours, a sea of lights glimmering beneath the gentle drizzle that tumbled down from the darkening sky above. With the sun's final light dying behind the mountain, the city had taken on an almost magical glow.

"Oh, wow," Akane breathed. "It's beautiful, Ranma."

"I wanted you to see it," Ranma replied with a smile. Her mood had improved drastically since they had taken shelter from the rain, under a cluster of trees. "I've seen many things in my time, and this view is one of the few I truly treasure."

"I didn't know you had an appreciation for things like this," Akane said, slightly surprised.

"It's strange, you know. I wouldn't have thought that myself, either," Ranma replied contemplatively. "I've never had much respect for the human race as a whole. Over the years I've seen them destroy nature, and themselves, more times than I care to remember. But every once in a while, they remind me that they can -create- something beautiful."

"It's a nice thought, isn't it?" Akane said. "Humans aren't all bad. I used to be one myself, you know."

Ranma failed to suppress a laugh. "Well, they aren't -all- bad, I guess."

Akane smiled as Ranma's quiet laughter faded into a companionable silence. They had been sitting together for a few minutes, huddled together near the mountaintop, out of sight of any tourists who may have been about. The mountainside was not as isolated as they might have wished - far from it, in fact. 

Ranma had decided to wait until well into the night before proceeding down to the city, and Akane had offered no argument. A rest, and an opportunity to enjoy the view, were both welcome. 

Akane chewed her lip thoughtfully, weighing up whether or not to press Ranma further on the lab results they had obtained. She had tried on a couple of occasions to ask about them, but Ranma had steered the conversation away each time with remarkable agility. She knew that pressing harder would likely achieve nothing, so decided against trying again. Hopefully, the answers would present themselves soon.

"Why did Happosai choose to live here?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," Ranma replied with a shrug. "He used to travel around a lot, never stayed in one place for very long. I guess he must have just taken a liking to this place. He still travels around - his kind have to - but this is the closest thing he has to a home. I guess he finally realised that he needed one."

"I think I understand how he must have felt."

"Yeah, I suppose you would," Ranma replied, sounding wounded. 

"Hey, I didn't mean--"

"I'm sorry for dragging you around Japan like this," Ranma said quietly. She stared out over the city, watching the tiny motions of cars moving along the streets between luminescent streams of street lights. "You used to have a home, a school, friends, everything a girl your age should have. Now, you've just got me."

"And sore feet," Akane added. Ranma grimaced; Akane squeezed her shoulder gently and gave an embarrassed smile. "I'm kidding, Ranma."

"I'm not. I'm sorry, Akane. If I knew another way to protect you ...."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about. My old life was so ... -ordinary-. I went to school, I studied, I came home, I trained. I've been doing that as long as I can remember. It was boring."

"You know what?" Ranma asked. "I've studied and trained for nearly nine hundred years. I'm stronger, I'm faster, I'm more skilled in battle than anyone else on this planet. My father taught me that being the best was the most important thing in life. I'm supposed to be -happy- that I'm the best."

"But you're not?"

Ranma shook her head. "If I could, I would trade it all for just one day of an 'ordinary life'," Ranma said with a wan smile. "I'm sorry that I had to take that away from you. I know how valuable it is."

"I never really thought about it like that."

"Being immortal gives you a different perspective on these things," Ranma replied, a smirk creasing her features.

"How so?"

"I've lived ten lifetimes, but I've never really been -alive-. What kind of life is this, running away day after day? Hiding in the wilderness by myself for nearly a millennium?

"For nine centuries I've watched from a distance. Watched ordinary people living their ordinary lives. They go to work, they go to school, they spend time with their friends and their families and yet none of them truly appreciate what they have. None of them understand how lucky they are, just to be alive."

"They've never known any different."

"You're right. I had a life - a real life, even if it was bizarre by most standards. I know what it means to lose that. I won't let you lose yours."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to," Akane replied, a determined edge to her voice.

"There's that hope of yours again. You should be careful with that."

"Don't give up hope, Ranma," Akane said, after a time. "You never know what will happen. You might get an ordinary life after this is all over."

"I gave up on that thought a long time ago, Akane. That kind of hope is dangerous. Letting go of it is the only thing that's kept me sane," Ranma replied. She gave Akane a sad smile. "No, I've accepted my place in this world. Just as you must accept yours."

"We don't have to accept anything!" Akane replied. "You don't have to be alone anymore. I'll stick with you, and we'll figure this out. We'll find your ordinary life."

"I really would like to believe that. Honestly, I would."

"Then -believe- it," Akane implored, grasping Ranma's hand. The girl's skin was icy cold, robbing Akane's fingers of sensation, but that didn't matter anymore. "Since the day I met you, you've been telling me to trust you. Now it's your turn to trust me."

"Akane, don't--"

"Listen to me. You've been going it alone for nine hundred years. Look how well that's worked out for you. You can hide in the forest for the rest of time, or we can work together and figure out what the hell we're supposed to be doing."

Ranma let out a long, slow sigh. She wanted to run away, to hide and pretend this was not happening. But Akane would not allow that. No, the Tendo girl sat there, staring intently at her with Kayoko's eyes - Gods, those eyes - and she knew it would be useless to resist. She had long known this moment would come; however, she had never imagined it would be so soon.

After Kayoko, she had not dared tell any of the Tendo girls too much. She protected them from danger to the best of her abilities; she did not lead them into it. But ... Akane was different. She had already led Akane into danger at Osaka. It was foolhardy and reckless, but Akane had persevered. Just as Kayoko would have done.

"You're the last of the Tendo line," Ranma insisted, knowing it was futile. "If you die ... I don't know what will happen. I have to protect you."

"I'm going to die one day, Ranma. I'm not immortal. We can try to figure this out before then, or we can wait around to see what happens. I don't know about you, but I don't want to die hiding in the trees. If I'm going to die, I want to die facing these Hunters of yours."

"Damn it, Akane," Ranma sighed. That ferocious tenacity, that unbreakable will; this girl was Kayoko in all but name. "Fine. We'll try it your way."

*** * ***

-Your heart rate is too high, My Lady. Try to relax.-

Ukyo scowled and wiped sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her uniform. The heat inside her bulky helmet was positively stifling, and the thick body armour she was forced to wear did not help matters in the slightest. Added to that was the distinct unease of flying for the first time, the dizzying sight of first ocean, then trees, whizzing by the window as the chopper hurtled forward with surprising speed.

-Easier said than done,- she replied irritably. She had never imagined that her encounter with Ranma would be unfolding in circumstances such as these. Still, the advantages she gained from her alliance with Hunter far outweighed the annoyances. She sighed, and tried to put it out of her mind.

-Link has begun receiving GPS telemetry, My Lady. I have opened a connection to her data stream. I'll interpolate the coordinates with your spatial sense.-

-GPS?-

-Global Positioning System. Each member of the fireteam is equipped with a small GPS receiver, which allows for---

-Just tell me what it means to me, Seraph Wing.-

-You shall be aware of the position of your teammates at all times. The knowledge may prove useful.-

-Thanks,- Ukyo replied. She could feel a prickling sensation at the edge of her mind, and became aware of the six others sitting in the helicopter with her. She could also feel the presence of the Leviathan Spring far behind her; somehow she could feel its location, just as she could feel the location of her hands without looking at them. It was a strangely eerie sensation.

"You feeling okay, Wing?"

"What?" Ukyo asked, turning to the source of the voice. Angel, the team medic, was watching her, a curious expression upon her face.

"You okay? You looked a bit out of it there. You've never flown before, have you?"

"No," Ukyo admitted with a shrug. She realised she must have looked strange, silently conversing with Seraph Wing. "I'm fine, though. Just a little lightheaded."

"Okay. Let me know if you feel faint. I can give you something to help."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

"You'll do fine tonight, I know it," Angel said with a kind smile. "We all know what you're capable of. You have nothing to be worried about."

Ukyo nodded her thanks, then turned to face the window once more. The scenery had faded quickly into darkness, an black sea that stretched out endlessly below. Staring into the darkness was a distinctly unsettling experience - doubly so given what lurked within that darkness.

Where are you hiding, Ranma?

Over the weeks, she had been so caught up in her new circumstances that the impossible had almost happened - she had almost forgotten about Ranma, about her search for vengeance. It was so ingrained into her psyche that she couldn't understand how she could have put it out of her thoughts for so long. 

For as long as she could remember, it had been the sole driving force in her life. Follow Ranma. Find Ranma. Kill Ranma. It had been the only reason for her existence. How had it been relegated so easily to the back of her mind?

A sign of the times, I suppose. I've been distracted by ... other things.

-Ukyo? Can you hear me?-

Ukyo almost jumped out of her seat at the voice. -Ryoga? Where are you?-

-I'm sitting at my desk. I built an encrypted communications subchannel into the Core so I'd be able to talk to you.-

-The military let you do that?- 

-Actually, they ordered me not to. That's why I had to hide it. Even Seraph Wing can't hear what I'm saying to you, or you to me.-

-There you go, taking risks for me again,- Ukyo said, unable to stop herself from smiling. She gave thanks nobody else on the chopper could see her face. -I don't want you getting into trouble on my account.-

-Let me worry about that. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you go out there after the dragon alone. I'm going to listen in on the mission, provide what support I can. Okay?-

-Okay,- Ukyo replied, still smiling. -Thanks. I appreciate the company. Good timing, too. I was just thinking about you.-

*** * ***

"So what are we going to do now?"

"I guess our first step should still be to contact Happosai, and see if he knows anything about these test results," Ranma said thoughtfully, withdrawing the small folder from her cloak. Opening it, she flipped though a few pages. "That's our best chance right now."

"Does it make any sense to you at all?" Akane asked, peering over Ranma's shoulder. 

"Not really," Ranma replied, holding her hand toward the report. A faint glow emanated from her palm, softly illuminating the pages. "I recognise the names of your ancestors, but that's about it. Gods, I'd almost forgotten there were so many."

Akane scanned over the list of names. It depressed her to recognise none of them besides her own, her mother's, and Kayoko's. Her father had never really talked about her mother's side of the family - now, of course, she knew why.

"You knew all of them?" she asked. "What were they like?"

"Unique," Ranma said. She smiled in reminiscence. "Each was as different as the last. I never knew what to expect."

"Would you tell me about them?" Akane asked. She met Ranma's confused glance with wide, pleading eyes. "We've got some time to kill. I don't know anything about my family, and I want to change that."

"Very well," Ranma replied with a sigh. "Which one do you want to know about?"

"I ... I don't know, any of them," Akane stammered, surprised by Ranma's acquiescence. "Tell me about my great aunt. What was her name?"

"Her name was Kasumi," Ranma replied, closing the folder, a troubled expression taking root upon her face.

"Kasumi?"

"She was a nurse. Kind to a fault, gentle, compassionate. She helped those who needed help," Ranma said, closing her eyes in remembrance. "She was a beautiful girl. She could calm anyone's anger with just a few words, heal the sick with the lightest touch of her fingers. When she smiled, the heavens themselves stopped to stare."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Akane said, smiling.

"She was. She didn't have an angry thought in her whole life. I've never met a more tolerant or forgiving person, before or since. It's almost ironic. She was the very essence of the Lady of Life, without even knowing it. I didn't get the chance to tell her what she was."

"You mean ...?"

"Yes," Ranma replied with a slow nod. She stared out over the cityscape below. When she spoke, her voice dripped with almost palpable sadness. "Her kindness was her weakness. It made her vulnerable. She did not ... survive for long."

"Gods, that's terrible," Akane whispered, bringing her hands to her mouth. She shook her head in disbelief.

"I ... I didn't let her suffer," Ranma said quietly. She reached out and gingerly placed one arm over Akane's shoulders. "It was ... quick."

Akane sank into silence. She appreciated now why Ranma had told her so little. The few words Ranma had spoken carried so much meaning. The very absence of detail filled her mind with horrific imaginings, a dozen different deaths that her great aunt might have suffered through.

Ranma's face told a story of its own. Akane looked deep into those haunted eyes and thought of Ranma putting Kasumi out of her misery like a wounded animal. 

She grimaced at her mind's own creations. If nothing else, she took comfort in the fact that they strengthened her resolve. She would not suffer the same fate as the others. She would be different. 

"Thank you for telling me the truth," she said at length. She rested her head gently upon Ranma's shoulder. "I appreciate it."

"I know I haven't exactly been forthcoming with the truth, but you have to understand that it's for your own protection. There are some things you just shouldn't have to know."

"I know, Ranma, but you can't shield me forever. I have to know sooner or later. Please, stop hiding things from me. Protect me if you must, but don't protect me from the truth."

Ranma gave a nod but said nothing, apparently deep in thought. Akane considered saying something to her, but decided against it. Obviously, remembering Kasumi was not a pleasant experience for Ranma.

Instead, she leaned back a little and gazed upwards, toward the sky. The ever-expanding cloud cover hid most of the stars, and those that were visible were little more than faint spots hidden behind the bright light of the city below. Somehow, the city didn't seem so peaceful anymore.

"Akane, there's something I want to tell you," Ranma said at length.

"What is it?"

"It's something I've never told anyone before. It's ... it's about my curse."

"Which curse?"

"Jusenkyo," Ranma replied, a vague trace of bitter amusement in her voice. Akane gave her a mystified look. "The springs, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Akane replied, recognition dawning. One more tale amongst the multitude she had been told. She was somewhat relieved by the change of subject. "What about it?"

"Well, it's just that ... I wasn't ...."

"You weren't what?"

Ranma's eyes shot open, and she disappeared in a blur of motion. Akane managed scarcely more than a blink; Ranma was crouched, cat-like, her sword drawn and her head flicking back and forth as she scoured the sky. With the shoulder supporting her gone, Akane fell backwards onto the grass.

"Do you hear that?" Ranma hissed, her voice filled with quiet urgency.

"Hear what?" Akane asked, sitting up.

"Listen!" Ranma instructed. Akane did, straining her ears against the sounds of the forest, but no matter how she tried she could not hear anything out of the ordinary.

"What is it?" she asked. "I don't hear anything."

"Helicopter," Ranma replied. Reaching out, she grabbed Akane's hand and pulled her to her feet. "They must be tracking us. Come on, we have to go!"

*** * ***

Ukyo flipped the goggles down over her eyes and switched them to their night-vision mode. She had been trained in the use of the goggles, but despite that the ingenuity of the technology still amazed her. To be able to see so clearly even in the black of night was an amazing advantage. Just one of many advantages technology had presented her with.

"Red deployment complete. Commencing sweep," Scar's voice said over the radio. 

"Roger that, Red. What is your status, Blue?"

"We are coming on station and awaiting orders," came Fox's voice.

"Okay, you guys," Scar said. "You know the drill. I want a wide search. Keep it fast, clean and quiet. If you see anything, report it. We'll flank her and close the trap. We're just here to get Wing within striking distance - that's all. I don't want any heroics. Do not try to engage without backup."

A string of "Roger"s echoed through the radio, one after another, Ukyo adding hers at the end. So, this is it. The hunt is on.

She began her trek up the mountainside, her submachine gun held at the ready, her spatial sense acutely aware of the other six moving alongside her, a line that stretched partway around the mountain's base. 

The tension had melted from her body, leaving behind a calm composure that felt hauntingly familiar to her. The technology may have changed, but her body had always been well suited to the hunt. Now she was on the ground instead of stuck in that damnable helicopter, she could really concentrate.

The goggles presented her with a grainy, green-tinged representation of the terrain before her. It was much better than going without the goggles, but it was still hazy enough to allow Ranma to slip through if she wasn't careful.

Her spatial sense was a great help in that regard. She had worked hard to develop it, Seraph Wing an ever-patient tutor as she learned to interpret the signals from the Core. She could feel everything in a large circle around her; the lay of the land, the shapes and positions of trees and bushes; even the fleeting presence of the thousands of raindrops that passed through the air around her every second.

Come on, Ranma. Show me where you're hiding.

*** * ***

Akane pressed herself up against a tree trunk beside Ranma, who was peering over her shoulder into the darkness. She panted, grateful for the momentary respite from their lunatic charge down the mountain.

Thunder rumbled deafeningly overhead and she glanced upwards, wondering just when the thick clouds that dominated the sky had appeared. Only a few minutes earlier the sky had been much clearer. She didn't mind at all; in fact, the sudden rain was strangely comforting.

The gentle drizzle had become a torrential downpour, but Ranma was far too focussed to care about the cascade of frozen water that pelted her body. Akane kept a small distance between herself and Ranma, so the ice would not hit her. While the rain soothed her, the ice most certainly did not.

"Why don't we head into the city?" she whispered.

"No, it's easier to hide out here in the forest," Ranma replied. "Why the hell don't they have any searchlights on that helicopter?"

Akane glanced around, not bothering to answer the rhetorical question. She could not make out much of her surroundings - while her night vision had improved over the months, it was still nowhere near as refined as Ranma's. She felt blind, being led by the hand without any idea of where she was going.

"Damn it," Ranma breathed, frustrated. "Whatever they're doing, we can't afford to stay here. Come on."

*** * ***

"I've got movement," came Angel's voice. "Coming my way, and fast. I need backup. Repeat, I need backup."

"You heard the lady," Scar replied. "Move in and outflank them. Hammer, Anvil, circle around behind them. The rest of you move in from the sides."

"Quickly," Angel added. "Damn, they're moving -fast-. They're going to be on me in a few seconds."

Ukyo whirled toward Angel and rushed toward her, all thought of stealth forgotten as her feet sloshed noisily in the softening earth. She could feel a vague presence at the edge of her spatial sense: Ranma.

-Biokinetic plating online,- Seraph Wing reported. -Lifeform monitors active. Adrenaline supplements administered. You are ready, My Lady.-

Ukyo felt the electric hum of the biokinetic shield as it burst into life around her, filling the air with a crackling energy as it neutralised the many raindrops unfortunate enough to intercept its surface. The hiss of hyper-accelerated evaporation rang in her ears.

-Good luck, Ukyo,- Ryoga said. -Be careful.-

-It's the dragon that will need luck,- she replied as she charged through a group of bushes. Switching her goggles over to infra-red, she saw the red glow of Angel's body heat a fair distance away. Glancing uphill, she saw a tiny shadowy shape moving, a speck of blue far darker than the ambient blue of the forest, heading straight for Angel. Cold. Very cold.

-Damn it, she's much too fast. This damned rain is slowing us down. She's going to get to Angel before we can intercept.-

-Then we must slow her down, My Lady.-

"Angel," Ukyo called over the radio, her breath heavy as she clambered over a clump of rocks. "How's your aim?"

"Serviceable," Angel replied, her voice noticeably shaky. "But I've only got a sidearm. That's not even going to make a dragon blink."

"It'll slow her down long enough," Ukyo replied. Her spatial sense told her that she was the closest to Angel, and she was too far away to take a shot. If it wasn't for the thickness of the forest, the difficulty of the terrain, and the damnable mud, she would be able to make it easily. "I need you to hit her. Anywhere will do. Just slow her down, and I'll take it from there."

"I'll see what I can do," Angel replied, sounding completely terrified.

-Angel has the lowest marksmanship scores of Alpha Team. She was recruited as a medic. This course of action is extremely risky. You are putting her in danger.-

"You'll be okay. I know you can do it," Ukyo replied. -Have some faith, Seraph Wing.-

*** * ***

Angel lowered herself to one knee, her body shivering as she crouched in the cold mud, hiding herself as best she could. The rain was pouring down, pelting her with intimidating force, almost a solid wall of water. She held her pistol forward, aiming at the rapidly-expanding shape of Ranma.

So much for the Hippocratic oath, she thought as she glanced down at the handgun in her shaky hands. I can't believe I'm doing this.

She was the team medic; she wasn't supposed to be involved in direct combat. She certainly wasn't supposed to go one-on-one with a dragon. The others were supposed to be here. Her teeth chattered noisily despite her best efforts to keep her jaw still.

In this state I'll be lucky to hit the mountain, she thought ruefully. How on Earth did I get myself into this situation?

"Angel," Scar's voice filled her ear. "I'm on my way. Hold on. I'm coming to help."

"The sooner the better," she replied anxiously. 

"Blue team, we need some backup! Covering this forest on the ground is a nightmare. Can you get to Angel's location?" Scar asked.

"Negative on that," Fox shouted into the radio, over the howling sound of a raging wind. "The wind shear up here is incredible. We're pulling back, the chopper can't take this kind of punishment. I've never seen anything like it."

They hadn't anticipated the dragon's ability to move so quickly over the rough terrain. That was the problem. The gap between team members was too great to cover the distance in time. They should have deployed two fireteams, not just one. 

Of course, the net result of that lack of foresight on the part of the mission planner was that she, the least combat-capable of the team, was facing the most powerful entity on the planet with nothing more than a low-calibre pistol and a field medical kit. She wondered, for a moment, whether the reprimand the planning officer would receive would compare to a confrontation with Ranma Saotome.

The weather didn't help. The mission planner would have reviewed the meteorological situation; why weren't they warned about the storm? The wind howled like a banshee as it circled the mountain, drowning out the voices chattering over the radio. She decided she was better off not knowing what they were saying; no doubt it would only worsen her panic.

The air turned cold around her, turning her breath to mist. The dark shapes emerged near her, a deep blue on her infra-red display. She let out a tiny whimper, not daring to imagine just what she was about to bring down upon herself. Concentrating on her training, she aimed her pistol and smoothly squeezed the trigger, just as she had been taught.

* * * 

The thunderclap of gunfire took Ranma totally by surprise, as did the searing pain that lanced her shoulder. She knew she had been shot the moment it happened - she had experienced it many times before. If she had been prepared for it, she could have shrugged it off.

But she was not prepared; she could do nothing but grunt as her centre of balance was thrown off, her inertia sending her tumbling into the mud below. Akane's hand slipped from grasp, disappearing into the night. A second gunshot rang in her ears, but it was met with no pain. She was sprawled in the mud, presenting a small target, so it did not surprise her that the second shot missed.

A yelp of pain jolted her out of her daze. Her eyes shot open. It was Akane's voice.

"Akane!" she yelled, twisting her body as her eyes flitted back and forth, seeking out her companion. The sound of a bone snapping from the awkward twist of her body registered dully in the back of her mind, but she paid it no heed. "Akane?!"

A flash of lightning burst over the skies above, casting its light down upon Akane, who stood a short way behind Ranma, staring at her own blood-soaked hand. Blood gushed from an open wound in her hip, a torrent of red liquid spilling into the mud and water below. 

"It's so warm," she whispered, wide eyes staring in wonderment. She pitched forward and collapsed into the soft earth. With her fall, so too did the storm collapse - suddenly, utterly and completely. 

The wind vanished, the rain ceased, and a deathly silence overtook the forest.

"Akane!" Ranma cried, throwing herself to her feet. A dull pain struck her lower back, pushing her forward slightly. Another struck her in her right shoulder, sending a stream of blood dribbling down her arm. She snarled, whirling around to glimpse her attacker. A bullet thudded into her ribcage, crushing bone and tearing flesh as it passed through her body. Another slammed into a tree trunk to one side of her.

A diminutive figure encased in bulky body armour knelt a few metres away, a still-smoking pistol in its hands, pointed directly at her. The muzzle flashed, and another blow struck Ranma in the stomach. Something inside her gave way; her will, her concern, her self-control. There was no longer any thought for the danger she and Akane were in. No conception of the need to hide. No thought for the lapsing consciousness of her ward. There was only fury, anger, and an undeniable thirst for revenge.

"You ..." she growled, shaking with uncontrollable rage as she slowly advanced toward the figure. She gripped her sword with a bloodied hand, the red stain already frozen to her skin. Her mind bubbled with fury, barely able to contain the tortures she would inflict upon the bastard human who had dared to injure her Akane.

*** * ***

Angel squeezed off round after round into the dragon, taking shaky steps backwards as the shots seemed to have no effect whatsoever upon the creature's advance. For all the good the gun did her, she might as well have been throwing mud.

Stop. Stop. Please stop.

She tried to keep her shots steady, aiming for the centre of mass as she had been instructed, but her aim was not well developed and most of her shots strayed wildly off course. It did not seem to make any difference. No matter where the shots hit, the dragon still came.

Stop, damn you. Stop!

She squeezed the trigger again, only to hear the impotent click of an empty chamber. The quiet sound carried the somber weight of a death knell, the same inevitability. 

She had been told stories, fanciful fairytales about the dragons. She had always thought them little more than boastful exaggerations, but as she stared at the advancing figure she realised they were all true. To look into Ranma Saotome's eyes - those empty, infinite orbs - was to stare Death itself in the face.

She had abandoned religion as a child and turned instead to atheism, but in her utter desperation she cried out, to any deity that would listen:

PLEASE HELP ME.

*** * ***

-Angel is on the move, My Lady.-

-On the run, more like it. She must have run out of ammo. Find me the fastest way there, Seraph Wing. Who else is close to her?-

-I've plotted a course for you, My Lady. Hammer is the second-closest to Angel, but his progress is slow.-

-Damn it. What's taking him so long?-

-I do not know. The storm's dissipation should have sped his approach.-

*** * ***

Angel's lungs burned with every breath as she forced herself down the mountainside, stumbling over tree roots and sliding down slippery slopes. The dragon was right behind her, drawing ever closer, its presence leeching the warmth out of the air and her body. She was slowing, she knew it; even with so much adrenaline surging through her veins she would not be able to keep up the pace forever.

A stray tree root caught her foot and sent her sprawling into the mud, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. She slid for fifteen or twenty metres before crashing heavily into a tree trunk. Dazed, she could do little but roll over onto her back and look up at the muddy trail she had left behind her. 

Her leg muscles screamed at her, denying her the strength to stand up again. Try as she might, she could not force them to cooperate.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

Her hands flailed about, looking for a weapon, for something to fight off her attacker. It was ludicrous, she knew it, but desperation compelled her to search. It was a futile effort; all she could feel was mud and the tree trunk that had hit her. Clawing at it, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. At least now she was no longer sinking into the bog.

The impact had smashed her goggles beyond repair, so she tossed them aside and reached down for one of the flares she kept attached to her belt. Perhaps one of the others would see it and come to her aid. If nothing else, its light would let her see the face of her killer before she died.

Her hand closed around something small, metallic. Certainly not a flare. The realisation hit her like divine revelation - she carried a spare magazine for her sidearm. In her panic, she had completely overlooked it. Fumbling with her gun, she managed to eject the spent magazine and slam the new one home. She yanked the slide back, released it, and raised the weapon to point at the bushes further uphill.

I'm not out of ammo yet, you demon bastard. Not yet.

It would do no good; she knew that. She knew it would never stop the dragon. But, perhaps it would buy her a few more seconds of life. A few more seconds were worth fighting for. That was all she had left. 

She grabbed a flare from her belt, lit it, and tossed it into the mud near her feet. It fizzled for a moment, then burst into brilliant life, its bright red light illuminating the nearby bushes. Perhaps, she thought in a fit of reckless optimism, it might even bring a helicopter to rescue her.

A rustling sound filled the air; she aimed her weapon at the source of the sound and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed over the mountainside, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Breathing heavily, she swept the gun back and forth over the bushes, looking for any further sign of movement. Shadows danced among the leaves, the flare's bright smoke casting bizarre shapes upon the foliage, but the leaves themselves were still. 

Something came flying at her out of the corner of her vision. She turned to it, bringing her pistol to bear, but it was too late. She watched the bushes carefully, eyes keenly searching for motion, but they saw nothing more than the echoes of movement. Whatever had been there was gone.

She reached down to grasp the object that had been thrown, finding its landing place in the mud near her leg. It felt warm, even through the thick gloves she was wearing. Holding it up, she examined it in the flickering red light, and let out a gasp.

It was a bullet. Her bullet. Completely flattened.

*** * ***

Ranma caught sight of her elusive prey, standing between two stout tree trunks. At last, it seemed the desperate retreat had ended, and the soldier had accepted his fate. There could be no escape from the Lord of Death.

Gripping her sword more tightly, she closed upon the soldier. She could almost taste his death upon her lips. The anger burned within her, an inferno in her mind and her heart that pushed all conscious thought aside. There was only revenge.

This foolish human would suffer for what he had done. She raised her sword and leapt at him, her imagination offering up images of the exquisite tortures he would endure, ready for her hands to recreate them.

Except her sword did not make contact. It crashed violently into an invisible wall in front of the soldier, its motion absorbed completely. Arcs of energy sprung up around it, strands of electricity that danced along its surface, holding it back from the soldier's body.

A sound met her ears, a voice that doused the raging fires of anger with a chilling flood of realisation. 

"Guess who, Ranma."

*** * ***

Seraph Wing's combat-survival programs went into primary mode, filling Ukyo's mind with information about the location of the strike, its force and direction. Her muscles were instructed exactly how to dodge the attack in the event of the plating's failure, but such precautions were unnecessary, and gleefully ignored. The shield held effortlessly.

"I bet you didn't think you'd see me again, not after what you did last time," Ukyo said, a deep sense of satisfaction dripping from her words as she admired the look of utter shock upon Ranma's face. "Well, I'm here to repay the favour."

"Ukyo?" Ranma asked, the sound more a stunned exclamation of surprise than a question. 

"That's right. And here you thought I was a defenseless medic, ready for you to cut up? Wrong. You're not getting anywhere near her."

She thrust a fist toward Ranma; Seraph Wing flooded energy along the Frame fibres in her arms, charging and extending the plating around her hand, expanding it into a globe of energy, an invisible fist. It slammed into Ranma with incredible force, blasting the dragon backwards to crash into a nearby tree. The wood cracked under the force of the impact, a jagged fissure appearing around the base of the tree. 

A smile crossed her face as she stepped over toward her foe, who was lying dazed against the splintered wood. The Frame poured energy into her muscles, filling them with boundless strength. She bent and grabbed Ranma by the cloak, lifting the girl with ease, flinging her like a rag doll into the mud. Garyoutensei went flying from Ranma's hands and sank into the heavy mud.

"What ... what are you?" Ranma asked, coughing up a fresh mouthful of blood that immediately froze upon her chin. She struggled against the grip of the muddy bog, reaching with one hand for her mired sword.

"I'm something for you to fear, Ranma," Ukyo replied, stepping on Ranma's wrist. "I'm your equal. I'm not a defenseless human for you to slaughter. You enjoy that, don't you? Killing people who can't fight back?"

Ranma winced in pain as the plating around Ukyo's foot pressed her arm into the sodden soil. She snarled with anger, her efforts to get up held easily in check by Ukyo's newfound strength.

"My mother couldn't fight back, and you killed her. But that's all changed now, hasn't it, Ranma? Now I can fight back, and it's your turn to die. You're not going to murder anyone else."

Ukyo raised her fist, clenching her fingers as she felt Seraph Wing building up an enormous charge in the plating that surrounded her hand. Ranma's eyes widened in startled realisation; they stayed open for only a tiny moment before Ukyo's highly-charged fist came slamming down into her skull.

*** * ***

"Link, contact HQ, inform them of our status," Scar said, slinging his submachine gun across his back as he stepped over to Angel. Kneeling beside her, he reached out and put a hand on each shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"She just ... wouldn't stop," Angel whispered, staring at the broken form of Ranma, laying limp in the mud. "The look in her eyes ... Gods above, I thought I was already dead."

"She's stopped now, and Wing couldn't have done it without you," Scar replied reassuringly. "You did a great job, soldier."

"I'm no soldier," she replied angrily, shaking her shoulders free of his touch. "I'm a doctor! What the hell am I doing with a gun?"

"Defending yourself. She would have killed you without a second thought."

"Sir," called Link. The diminutive girl approached the pair of them, glancing nervously at Ranma's body as she walked. "HQ is requesting we bring the dragon's body back to the Spring. Bravo Team's two choppers are en route to pick us up, ETA three minutes."

"I want Angel on board first," Scar replied, giving her a lingering glance before standing. "Wing - what is the dragon's status?"

"She's dead," Ukyo replied quietly, standing over the body. She tilted her head, looking intently at Ranma's blood-soaked face. "If she doesn't stay that way, I'll just have to kill her again."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence. You're going to ride with her in the second chopper. I'm not putting anyone else near her; we've seen how effective our weapons are against her. Once we get her to the Spring, we can figure out how the hell we're going to dispose of her for good."

"We're three short, sir," Link interjected. "Baker is a hundred metres uphill, but Hammer and Anvil are aboard Blue's chopper already."

"What the hell are they doing there? I thought that chopper had left. Get me the pilot."

"Sorry, sir, I can't raise him. I've already tried, he's not responding. Hammer's transmission to the pilot indicates they requested a pickup to evac a wounded female."

"Damn it," Scar fumed. The familiar sounds of helicopters in flight rumbled over the treetops; he glanced upwards into the sky. He didn't have time to worry about Hammer and Anvil for now. 

"The pilots are requesting our evac plan, Sir," Link reported. 

"Tell them to get down here ASAP. We're riding in one, Wing and the dragon go in the other."

"Yes, Sir."

Scar stepped over to Ukyo, raising his submachine gun to point at Ranma as he drew nearer. "Don't move her until our chopper is in the air. I'm not exposing any of my team to her. Once we're all aboard and our chopper's in the air, then you haul her ass into the second chopper. We'll cover you from the air. Got it?"

"Got it."

*** * ***

Ukyo watched the chopper lift off, its rapidly-spinning rotor sending leaves flying in every direction and buffeting branches around with great force. She shielded her eyes as it rose higher into the air, its bright searchlights filling her vision. Pulling the goggles aside, she looked down at the broken form of Ranma.

-I do not detect a heartbeat, or any other vital signs, My Lady.-

-That doesn't mean anything, Seraph Wing. I don't think she was truly alive before, either.-

She sank to her knees alongside her fallen opponent. There was so much she did not understand about the dragon. She had for so long thought of nothing but her revenge. Now her rival, her enemy, the reason for the hunt, lay motionless at her feet. Was that it? Was that all she had been striving for, for so very long? Was that the great confrontation she had anticipated?

She clenched her fist, bringing it up to her face. Seraph Wing had made it so easy. Ranma was totally unprepared, and had fallen within seconds. The only emotion she could conjure was a vague sense of dissatisfaction.

She looked down again, the harsh white light beamed down by the chopper illuminating the area surrounding Ranma's body in complete detail. Ranma herself was still hidden, however; her enormous cloak pooled on the ground, giving the impression that Ranma was little more than a head and a pair of hands protruding from a pit of tar.

Reaching down, she took one of Ranma's hands and lifted it, pulling the forearm free of the cloak's protection. It was pale, cold; the bright light coloured it a sickly white pallor, stained red in places from the plentiful blood that was frozen to the skin. A litany of scars ran along the skin, a testament to many years spent fighting, killing. Each hiding its own story. A thin, snake-like dragon was tattooed from elbow to wrist, many of the scars crossing it.

What secrets are you hiding, Ranma? What exactly -are- you?

She narrowed her eyes as she ran her hand along Ranma's arm. Would Ryoga be able to study this body? Perhaps he could give her the answers she sought.

-The second helicopter has landed, My Lady. It is time.-

-Please, be careful, Ukyo.-

Ukyo stood and turned to look at the second helicopter, shielding her eyes from the searchlight. She could see the pilot, little more than a head encased in a helmet visible through the window, as he gave her a thumbs-up. She nodded to him.

-This is unusual, My Lady. I'm receiving a burst transmission. I can't quite pinpoint the point of origin.-

"Look out!" Angel's voice screeched in her ear with deafening volume. "The dragon - it's moving!"

-No! My Lady, it's---

Ukyo screamed in agony as a searing electric fire burst into her brain, surging down her spine and out into every nerve ending in her body. The white-hot, blinding pain paralysed her as a dozen overload warnings flared inside her mind. 

---the Frame shutdown procedure, I can't stop---

It felt to Ukyo as though a switch in her mind was thrown. Her body was disconnected, her sense of the world cast aside. She was vaguely aware of her body, still twitching from the electrical shock, as it toppled helplessly forward into the mud. She felt no impact.

"Get that chopper out of there!" came a voice, muffled and distant. She tried to put together the words, find meaning in the sentence, even to identify who spoke them, but her mind refused to provide her any answers.

Flashes of light filled her mind, the occasional burst from one of her senses; she became aware of the metallic smell of blood, the cold, clammy grip of the mud upon her body. She saw a black shape moving away from her, heard the smashing of glass and the distant, echoing pitter-patter of dozens of gunshots.

One sound came to her addled mind, a voice that spoke with crystal clarity through her fogged consciousness, a voice that penetrated the abyss surrounding her. 

It was Ryoga, calling her name.

= = = = T E N = = = = 


	16. Alone at Last

* * *

**T E N**

  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**   
_"Alone at Last"_

* * *

Mule, the pilot of the largest of Alpha Team's transport helicopters, glanced down at the fuel gauge before him. It glowed with a faint green light, and showed that while the fuel situation was not yet critical, it was dangerously close to being so. The helicopter, seemingly wary of its own precarious situation, juddered for a moment before settling down.

Come on, baby, he thought, don't give up on me now. We're not home yet.

"Any sign of the Spring yet?" Fox's voice asked, loud in his ear. 

"Not yet. We can't stay up here much longer. If we turn back now, we -might- be able to make it back to land. Or close to it. I'll probably have to autorotate the landing, but that's better than dropping into the ocean."

"You know as well as I do we can't just ditch a black chopper on Hokkaido. This is all we've got. Keep looking."

"Sir," Mule acknowledged, his voice tight. The chopper had taken damage during the storm. Radio, GPS, the redundant communication systems - they were all down. He was effectively flying blind, a solitary presence above an endless expanse of black water.

It was the stuff of nightmares. One by one the gauges and instruments had winked out of sight, plunging him into total darkness in a matter of moments. The flight controls themselves felt strange, different, as though it was another hand guiding them and not his own. He squeezed the cyclic control more tightly, reassuring himself that it was not going to disappear.

He was being stupid, he knew. He had trained for such an eventuality, but to have it actually -happen- was another thing entirely. Low on fuel, powerplants struggling, no instrumentation - it all spelled disaster in bright, glowing neon letters. All he had to go on was his compass and an extrapolated guess on the location of the Leviathan Spring he had calculated from its last reported location, heading and speed - information that was hopelessly out of date.

His burden was made heavier by the cargo they were carrying. Two other Alphas - grunts from the Red fireteam - had come aboard, bringing with them a wounded girl. He'd advised Fox against picking them up. Their chopper had already taken damage, and just as he had predicted, the problems had only worsened since then. It was reckless and irresponsible to undertake a medical evacuation in such a situation, but they had done so anyway. 

All well and good for Fox, playing the gallant hero, but it was upon Mule's shoulders that the responsibility of bringing them safely to the Spring lay. It was an encumbrance that he could have done without. The fact that the extra weight they were carrying may well mean they would run out of fuel before finding the Spring was an irony that was not lost upon him.

"How is our guest doing?" he asked, seeking a distraction from the more depressing machinations of his imagination. 

"She's making an amazing recovery," replied Harper, Blue's medic. "I've never seen anything like this. If this keeps up, I'd say she doesn't have anything to worry about."

Perfect. Just perfect. He'd stuck his neck out, and those of his passengers, and for what? It sounded like the girl was in no danger anyway. Other than the danger of crashing violently into the water below, a danger that grew more dire every passing moment.

"Glad to hear some good news," Mule replied, with no small measure of sarcasm. So much for a distraction.

The lambent moonlight, endlessly dancing over the ocean swell, was all he had to see by. He gave silent thanks that at least the thick, billowing clouds had vanished with the storm, leaving a clear night. If those suffocating clouds had lingered on, he would have been in no end of trouble. Their departure allowed him a vague hint as to his altitude, a vital aid to his task.

A tiny sparkle of light caught his peripheral vision - a green speck that floated upon the water's surface in the distance, near the horizon. His heart leapt at the sight, but his mind kept his enthusiasm firmly in check. The light was not necessary the landing strip. 

"I can see a light. Could be the landing pad."

"You sure?" Fox asked

He had seen such things before. Algae churned up by seagoing vessels sometimes fluoresced at night, producing a green glow. That could indicate the location of the Leviathan Spring - but it could just as easily be the trail of another vessel.

"No," he said. "Might be landing lights, might be something else. Don't get your hopes up too high now."

*** * ***

A thin, pulsing strip of green landing lights illuminated the landing pad. The vessel itself was a ghostly outline and nothing more, a small portion of its hull barely visible protruding from the black waters. It was an eerie sight, an enormous metallic beast lurking beneath the surface. Eerie or not, Mule was delighted to see it.

"It's looking good, Chief," Mule called over the radio, unable to contain his relief. That was a close one. Too close. "We hit the jackpot."

"Roger that," Fox replied. "Our guest isn't entirely out of the woods just yet, so get us down there fast."

"You got it," Mule replied, lowering the collective slightly as the helicopter came into line over the landing pad. Looking down at the landing pad below, he again cursed the communication malfunction. He wanted a medical team out on the pad with a stretcher, but he had no way to ask for one.

Something else caught his eye - the landing pad was different. This was not the pad he had taken off from. Indeed, he did not recognise this pad at all. Must be the stern pad, he thought. I wonder why they lit this one up for us.

Such thoughts were relegated to the back of his mind as he concentrated on keeping the chopper steady as it descended. One of the chopper's skids touched down heavily on the pad, the sudden change in attitude sending the chopper into a slight drift. Mule compensated and held the craft steady before finally lowering it completely to the ground. Not the best of landings, but reasonable under the circumstances.

"Any landing you can walk away from ...." he muttered to himself.

*** * ***

The landing pad began its descent before the helicopter's doors could even open, filling the hangar below with the sibilant sound of hydraulic pistons contracting. The outer doors began the slow process of closing above them, the light of the moon waning as the gap between them grew narrower.

Fox hopped out first, signalling the others to follow him out onto the pad. Harper was the last of his team, followed by the two members of Red who had accompanied them, the two teammates carrying the wounded girl between them. Harper shouted instructions regarding the proper procedure for carrying a wounded patient without a stretcher, but the two soldiers seemed to ignore them, to the medic's growing annoyance.

Fox stepped away from the chopper, closely followed by Brute, the team's demolitions specialist. The hangar's interior lights were off, leaving the small group with only the glow of the landing lights to see by as the hangar bay doors closed above them, enveloping them in darkness. Fox exchanged a puzzled glance with Brute and activated his radio.

"Phoenix, this is Alpha, Blue fireteam," he spoke into his helmet microphone as he slung his submachine gun over his shoulder. "Is anyone receiving me?"

He waited for a reply, but a static hiss was the only response. A prickling sensation ran down his spine. Something was not right about this. The look on Brute's face suggested Fox was not alone in his feeling. Brute was an enormous, hulking man - to see such uncertainty in his face was in and of itself a source of intense discomfort.

"Repeat, this is Alpha, Blue fireteam, requesting acknowledgement. Please respond. Come in, Phoenix."

"I don't like this, Chief," said Brute. 

"You're not the only one," Fox replied. The ground juddered, a loud clunk surrounding them as the platform settled into its resting bay on the floor of the hangar. "Listen up, guys. Switch to NV, let's fan out and see if we can't get the lights turned on. Maybe then we can figure out what's going on around here."

"That won't be necessary."

"What?" Fox asked, turning to the source of the voice. Hammer looked back at him, smiling, but it was Anvil who spoke.

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated," Hammer said, hoisting the wounded girl up over his shoulders, "but your services are no longer required."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Brute growled. "We just hauled your sorry asses out of that forest. You should be thanking us!"

"Our primary transport was far too slow given the nature of Ryujin's injuries," Anvil replied. "Even with her regenerative abilities, we needed to get her to a secure facility quickly. Your helicopter's arrival was most timely. For that, you have our thanks."

"Unfortunately, knowing what you now know, you have become a liability," added Hammer, his smile coloured green by the glow of the lights. The two walked forward together, disappearing into the darkness that surrounded the chopper. "We have been forced to take steps to limit that liability."

"Phoenix thanks you for your service. That service is now at an end."

"NV! Now!" Fox cried, activating his own goggles. The bright glare of the landing lights stung his eyes, but beyond it he could see a writhing, shifting black mass. The two soldiers from Red fireteam pushed their way through the wall of black and disappeared.

From within the shifting mass, faces emerged. Dozens upon dozens of identical faces. Ranma's face, repeated over and over again.

"What the HELL are those things?" Harper gasped.

"Oh ... shit," Fox managed to splutter, vaguely aware of his hand reaching for his gun, even though he knew it would do no good. "They're everywhere! Open fire!"

No order was given to the Hidari clones. The army of Ranmas simply moved as one, a perfectly orchestrated whole, a wall of flesh and sharpened steel that slammed into the soldiers with unrelenting force. It was over before a single bullet could be fired.

*** * ***

Ukyo? 

Ukyo, wake up.

Please, don't do this to me. I know you can hear me. 

Just open your eyes. I need you to open your eyes.

Ukyo groaned, a strong sensation of nausea rushing in to fill the void that had captivated her. She retched, coughing violently, and the sensation of nausea was joined by the taste of blood on her tongue. A dull ache permeated her torso, and yet she welcomed the feelings of pain, because they were better than the nothingness that had held her captive for so long.

-Ukyo? Can you hear me?-

-I can hear you,- she replied, thankful that her mental voice was functioning. She had the distinct feeling that her real voice would not have fared so well. -I'm glad to hear your voice, Ryoga.-

-Ukyo! Gods, I'm glad you're okay. I've been trying to get into contact with you for hours!-

-Calm down, I'm okay,- she replied, and tried to open her eyes. A brilliant flash of light scorched her vision, a brightness so profound that it sent her mind reeling. She quickly clamped her eyes closed again. Opening them would have to wait. -At least, I think I'm okay. My head feels like it's been split in two. What happened?-

-Are you sure you're okay? You've been out for nearly three hours,- Ryoga replied, his voice laden with concern. 

-I'm fine,- Ukyo insisted, despite the throbbing ache that coursed through her whole body. -Really, I'm fine. Just calm down. I need you to relax and tell me what happened.-

There was a moment's silence as Ryoga collected himself as best he could.

-Something happened to Seraph Wing - a crash of some kind. We've got no idea what caused it. Yoiko nearly went crazy trying to track down the problem.-

-That's not what I meant,- Ukyo replied. -What happened with the mission? What happened with Ranma? I heard gunfire.-

-After you collapsed, all hell broke loose. Ranma ripped seven shades of hell out of the helicopters, then disappeared into the forest. I don't know what happened to the chopper on the ground, and to be honest - after seeing what she did to the chopper that made it back - I don't want to know.-

-Damn it,- Ukyo fumed. She tried to move, but found she could not. -I just -knew- it wouldn't be so easy to take her down. Are the others okay?-

-Yeah. Scar wanted to drop in and extract you, but the chopper was so damaged that it had to pull back. They're all in the medical ward being checked out, but they're already formulating a rescue operation. The brass is nervous because Ranma is still in the vicinity, but Scar wants to come and get you out of there.-

-That's good,- Ukyo replied hopefully. It was good to know that she had not been abandoned. -Why aren't I dead? Where's Ranma?-

-We think she's nearby, but we can't pin down her position exactly. It's very important that we get you out of there before she decides to come back. Can you move? Put some distance between the two of you?-

-Not likely,- Ukyo replied, struggling. Again, she was unable to move. -I think I'm tied to something.-

-Tied to something?-

-Yeah. Give me a minute.-

Ukyo forced her eyes open once more. Again, the burning light seared her mind, its bright luminance making her eyes water. She held her eyes open, struggling not to squint or close them, and slowly the intensity of the light faded. Scorching white light gave way to a more muted yellow glow that she recognised as sunlight.

She glanced around, wincing at the stabbing pain that coursed up and down her neck with every motion of her head. She was in a clearing, caked in mud, surrounded by shards of broken glass. She was sitting, and apparently tied to a tree. The ground around her was torn up, presumably from heavy gunfire.

-It's a tree,- she said, looking up at the sturdy trunk that rose overhead. -I don't know what I'm tied with, but it feels like metal. There's glass everywhere. This place looks like a war zone.-

A shape in her peripheral vision caught her eye. She twisted a little and squeezed her way around the tree to get a proper view of it. She gasped - the hulking, wrangled shape was the twisted shell of the transport helicopter. Little remained beyond a mangled wreck of jagged metal and smashed glass. 

She could see the enormous tears in what remained of the door, and smell the fuel dripping from the ruptured tank. Inside, or rather among, the wreck lay the mangled remains of the pilot, his body skewered by a bloodied metal pole. The chopper was tipped on its side, its one remaining rotor blade rocking slightly back and forth.

-Oh, Gods,- she gasped. -I see what you meant about the helicopters. That poor bastard never had a chance.-

-You've got to find a way out of those restraints,- Ryoga said, an urgent tone to his voice. -Ranma could come back any minute. If you can get away unnoticed, our situation will start to look a lot better.-

-I'll see what I can do,- she replied, jiggling her arms against her restraints. They rattled, a dull metallic sound. Chains, perhaps? She cursed the lack of her spatial sense - it felt as though she had a thick towel wrapped around her head, obscuring her senses. A bizarre combination of blindness, numbness, and deafness. -Any chance of getting Seraph Wing back online?-

-Believe me, I'm doing everything I can. The Core is online, and is transmitting the basics. Life signs, that sort of thing. It's just a matter of bringing the AI back online and reinitialising the Frame.-

-Sounds like a piece of cake. You do that, I'll see if I can stand up.-

-I'll let you know the moment I'm finished. Don't worry, Ukyo. I'll get you out of this somehow.-

-Thanks,- she replied, realising after she spoke how irritated she had sounded. She ceased her struggles for a moment, composed herself, and tried to convey some of the gratitude she genuinely felt for his company. -I mean that, Ryoga. Thank you.-

-I understand,- came the reply. -Just hang in there.-

*** * ***

The world was green and grey, held in stark relief by a flickering, fluorescent glow. A constant thrumming drone underpinned the light's staccato rhythm, rumbling through the ons and offs, through the bright and the dark. The air smelled strongly - a harsh, chemical odour that assaulted the nose with its sterile cleanliness.

Akane blinked several times, dry eyes complaining painfully. The white light streaked across her vision, its brightness fanning a slow-burning fire behind her eyes. Squinting, she turned her head away and tried not to look into the light. 

A soft feather pillow pressed against her cheek as she turned, its gentle texture seeming out of place in the cold, metallic room. Glancing downwards, she saw thick sheets and a blanket covering her body, felt the softness of the mattress below her. She felt strange - a small, niggling doubt lingered in the back of her mind, prodding her consciousness occasionally with the feeling that something was different.

Her mind felt groggy, as though she had woken from a sleep much too soon. Her muscles complained with each movement, seemingly reluctant to exert themselves, content to remain still. A vague nausea swam in her stomach, just noticeable enough to be distinctly unpleasant. She tried to sit up. A sharp, stabbing pain burst through her hip, eliciting a gasp of surprise. Clutching her leg, she fell back to the bed, and the pain subsided to a dull throb. 

"Please, don't move. You're still injured."

"Who said that?" she asked, looking around the room as well as she could without moving. The light in the room was concentrated on her bed, leaving the far corners of the room darkened. "Who's there?"

"Don't be alarmed," said the voice. "You're in no danger. We're here to help."

"Show yourself!" Akane demanded, staring into the darkness from where the voice had come. 

"As you wish."

Two figures stepped forward into the light, both dressed in military fatigues. Akane looked back and forth between the two, eyes widening as she realised they were almost identical. Both were tall, rugged, with piercing blue eyes and a crop of short black hair. One bore a long scar across his forehead and the other did not. That was the only real difference she could determine.

Both bore an undeniable resemblance to Ranma. 

She swallowed, a cold ball of fear sinking slowly into her stomach, and pulled herself away from the pair despite her hip's protests. "Who are you?"

Whenever one moved, the other moved identically. It was an unnatural, uncanny synchronisation. She had seen that kind of synchronisation before, and the memory only made her more nervous. She wondered for a moment where her sword had gone.

"I am Hammer, and this is Anvil," spoke the one with the scar. He smiled. "We are part of Delta Seven-Five, the special-services covert infiltration team created by the Phoenix organisation. We were sent to oversee the assault team that engaged Ryukyu. I am glad to see you are recovering."

Suppressing a shudder at the sound of his voice, she tried not to look directly into either of their eyes. Within those eyes lurked the same emptiness, the same void that she had seen in the laboratory at Osaka. Even without looking at them, she could feel the nothingness touching the edge of her consciousness.

She wanted to run from them, to find her sword and defend herself, but she could not get up. Several moments passed, an awkward stillness hanging in the air as she tried to distance herself from them.

"You're Hidari, aren't you?" she asked after a time. "Why didn't you kill me?"

"Our mission was not to kill you," replied Hammer. "And yes, we are Hidari of a sort. Proto-Hidari, early prototypes created from the same genetic base."

"What was your mission?" Akane asked, curiosity suddenly overtaking her fear. If they had wanted to harm her, they would have done so already. The realisation made her feel better, although not by much. She had stopped trembling, at least, which was itself a great relief.

"To extract you from the Hokkaido and bring you here."

"Why? Where is 'here'?"

"You are aboard the Leviathan Spring, a Phoenix-owned submarine submerged off the coast of Japan," Anvil added. "You were brought here from Hokkaido by helicopter approximately ninety minutes ago, in order to keep you away from Ryukyu."

"Wh ... what?" Akane stammered, overwhelmed. Dizzying numbness descended over her head. "Submarine?"

"Please accept our apologies. We understand this is a strange situation, but it was felt that a submarine offered the best protection from Ryukyu. We have gone to great lengths to keep your location a secret from those who do not need to know it. You should be safe here."

Akane shuttled her eyes back and forth between the two, utterly confused. These were the hunters that were after her, and yet they were treating her wounds. Why weren't they attacking her? Wasn't that what she had been running from?

"Why did you kidnap me?" she asked, unable to think of a more pertinent question.

"Kidnap?" Hammer asked. He glanced over to Anvil, who looked surprised. He smiled, and let out a chuckle. "We didn't kidnap you. We were sent in to -rescue- you." 

Akane stared at him, stunned. "Rescue me? What are you talking about?"

"You were lucky we found you when we did. We estimate, given Ryukyu's current state, that within two weeks you would have been dead. Perhaps less."

"I don't understand," Akane said, looking back and forth between the two doppelgangers. "What are you saying?"

Anvil's eyebrows rose in surprise as he looked to Hammer. "She doesn't know?"

"Ranma is naturally drawn to you because you are her polar opposite," Hammer explained. "She probably doesn't even understand why she does it, but in each generation she seeks out and kills Ryujin's host."

"It's a pattern we have observed many times," Anvil continued. "It seems that close proximity to Ryujin's host awakens Ryukyu's natural instincts within her. From what we can gather, once those instincts become dominant, she has no idea of what she is doing until long after Ryujin's host is dead." 

"Her degeneration is unusually slow this time. That is the only thing that allowed us enough time to find you and get you out of there. Traditionally, Ryujin's host is dead within a very short period after coming into contact with Ranma."

"You're lying," Akane countered, folding her arms. She put on a brave face, trying to ignore the sudden chill that ran through her veins. "I don't believe you. Ranma was protecting me. I want to go back to her!"

"Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant," Hammer replied. "Ranma was -not- protecting you. You may believe she was, perhaps even -she- believes she was, but she was not. The simple fact is, sooner or later Ranma is going to snap. Once she does, she will seek you out and she -will- kill you. It is simply Ryukyu's nature to seek out and destroy its opposite."

"And that is where we come in," Anvil said. "As you are, you don't stand a chance against her. We are going to help you."

*** * ***

Yoiko tapped at her keyboard, activating a multitude of surveillance probe modules she had stealthily installed throughout the network during her time aboard the Leviathan Spring. Nothing overt, just a bit of passive observation. Data streams, voice traffic, she could silently route it all to her PC and nobody would be any the wiser. This was far more her style of hacking than the inventory record intrusion job that had been foisted on her by her brother.

She had done all she could to assist in the repair and reinitialisation of Seraph Wing - the software side of things was functioning perfectly. The problem was hardware-based, and that was Ryoga's side of things. With her usefulness in that arena exhausted, she had turned to intelligence gathering.

Ryoga's direct link with Seraph Wing had alerted them to the system's failure during the mission, and the subsequent mission abort. They were the support team for the Seraph Wing system, and yet they had not been told about the failure. That annoyed her immensely. She did not know why they were being kept in the dark about the failure, but she did not plan on staying there if she could help it.

Something had gone wrong during the mission. Seraph Wing should not have failed, and its failure certainly should not have knocked Ukyo out. There was something fishy going on - she could feel it. There was a reason why the military was being so quiet about the mission's outcome, and she intended to find it. 

The military's weakness was its unwavering reliance on technology. Digital communication channels were commonplace, satellite feeds and wireless networks were the norm aboard the Leviathan Spring. They were all encrypted, of course, but she had the ability and the tenacity to get around such problems. If she could find out exactly what had gone on during the mission, she might be able to give Ryoga some useful information that he could pass directly to Ukyo via their link. That was how she justified her use of the probes to herself, anyway. She was reasonably confident that a military tribunal would not see it that way.

Picking up her favourite coffee mug, she took a sip of the strong black liquid inside and glanced around the laboratory. Work was proceeding as normal. None of the others even knew the mission had gone ahead. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. A multitude of audio and data streams were being recorded directly to her hard drive, and with the headphones she was wearing she could switch between the audio streams at will, listening in with ease on the various conversations being communicated back and forth across the sub. Almost everyone in the lab who used a computer wore headphones on some occasions to listen to music while they worked, so she was confident her task would not draw undue attention. That was just the way she liked it.

*** * ***

-This is getting me nowhere,- Ukyo growled as she struggled helplessly against her bonds. She could feel the warmth of her blood oozing over her hands, the result of endless friction against the rough bark of the tree, but she no longer cared. 

She had been struggling for what felt like hours, although she had no idea how long it had really been. She was used to - thanks to Seraph Wing's chronometer - knowing the exact time, but with the AI offline she could do little but guess. She growled in frustration as she rattled her chains, feeling utterly helpless.

-I think I've fixed the problem,- Ryoga said, his voice breaking the tension.

-You have?-

-Yeah. Hold on, I'm going to try reinitialising the system. This might not work.-

Ceasing her struggles, she leaned back against the tree trunk and waited. A low hum filled her ears, a twinge of anticipation squeezed her stomach, and she held her breath.

Suddenly, a violent jolt of electricity surged through her body, forcing a scream from her mouth as her body writhed, muscles contorting as a high-voltage current burned through her body and into the ground below. As quickly as it had come it was gone again, leaving her slumped against the tree.

-Oh, Gods, I'm sorry!-

Ukyo groaned and raised her head, which fell backwards and bumped against the tree trunk. She coughed, a painful burning sensation filling her lungs, and let out a slow, shaky breath. Through her stinging, watering eyes she saw what appeared to be tiny wisps of steam wafting from her mouth.

-Are you okay?- Ryoga asked frantically. -I screwed up, the Frame overloaded. Gods, I'm sorry!-

-Don't worry about it,- she managed to say. -I'm fine. Just ... please, don't do that again. It really, really hurts.-

-I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry---

-Ryoga,- she interrupted, putting as much firmness into her mental voice as she could manage. -I forgive you. Stop apologising. I need you to concentrate.-

-Okay ... okay,- Ryoga replied, obviously flustered.

-What was the problem?- she prodded.

-The Frame overloaded, there must be some internal damage in the fibres, or perhaps in the control subsystems, or maybe -- there's a thousand different components that could have caused it.-

-What can you do to fix it?-

-There's nothing I can do about it, not without access to the physical structure of the Frame. There's only so much I can do from here.-

-Okay, so what -can- you do?-

-I guess ... I guess I could reinitialise the Core and the AI without bringing the Frame online. That way, the AI could repair the Frame itself.-

-Sounds good to me. I knew you could come up with something.-

-It'll take me a while to decouple the Frame from the Core remotely. Hang in there.-

-Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.-

*** * ***

Hammer stood with his back to Akane, looking up at the ceiling, apparently deep in concentration. After a long pause, he spoke.

"The Hidari were originally designed as an anti-Ryukyu weapon. It was believed that the most effective weapon to combat Ranma would be Ranma herself. A DNA sample obtained in the fifties presented that opportunity, and the Hidari were the result of that research."

"However, the project has been met with nothing but failure," Anvil continued. "Despite continual improvements to each generation, the clones have never been able to match Ranma in conventional combat. They are almost perfect copies of Ranma, but not quite perfect enough."

"It is ironic that the clones are bred for a single purpose, and that purpose is one they can never achieve," Hammer observed with a slow nod of his head. He gave a wry smile. "Their failure has been so absolute that they have begun to revere Ranma as an undefeatable enemy."

"They have created their own mythology surrounding her. Some call her 'Waterskin' because of the liquid properties of the cloak she wears. Others call her 'Shafan', the demon who tried to burn the skies. They have a dozen different names for her. It's all nonsense, of course. They treat her almost as a religious figure, the leader of that which they stand against."

Hammer sat at the edge of Akane's bed, his weight tilting the mattress slightly, causing Akane to slide slightly toward him. He smiled at her, but kept his distance.

"Despite their failings, they still serve a purpose as loyal, dependable troops. We have used them many times against Ranma, and to try and make contact with you. One almost succeeded, but was killed."

Akane nodded slowly, memories of a lone Hidari fighting Ranma in a cave long ago returning to her mind. That was the first Hidari she had ever seen - the first of many. Ranma had fought and killed many since then, but the first indelibly marked her memory. 

That clone had called Ranma "Waterskin", just as Anvil had said. And just as Anvil had said, that Hidari had tried to take her away from Ranma. There had been no threat, no attack. Just five words: "I want to help you."

But ....

"A Hidari tried to kill me in Osaka," she said, fixing Hammer with a challenging gaze. "It certainly weren't trying to help me."

"The incident at facility 719 was regrettable," Hammer replied, unfazed. "Those Hidari had been germinated only hours before. They did not have developed personalities. They would have attacked anything that came near them."

Akane slumped back against her pillow and let out a long, slow sigh. The words of the pair did coincide with her own experience, but she refused to believe what they said so easily. That said, the fact that they had not killed her the moment they found her - as Ranma had said they would - swayed the argument in their favour. 

Even so, she was not about to abandon everything Ranma had told her, showed her, over the past few months. These Hidari gave off an unnatural, sickly aura that hung over them, a stench of artificiality. They were abominations, and she could feel the presence of Ryujin inside her, urging her away from them. Such an innate distrust was hard to ignore.

She closed her eyes and silently wished that Ranma was with her. No matter what the two proto-Hidari were saying, she desired Ranma's presence above all else. Her need clawed at her mind, an urge that could not be ignored.

Was this the compulsion Hammer had spoken of? Was it nothing more than her genetic makeup that compelled her to seek out Ryukyu?

No.

She did not desire Ryukyu's company. It was not the dragon that compelled her thoughts, there was no uncontrollable instinct. The plaintive cries inside her mind, the longing and desire, they were her own. She did not want Ryukyu. She wanted - needed - to be with Ranma. Ranma.

"We have been watching you for quite some time now, Akane. You are the most advanced Ryujin we have yet encountered. Your compatibility with the Ryujin phenotype is almost one hundred percent. This is why we believe you have the best chance of stopping Ryukyu."

"Compatibility?" Akane asked, drawn from her reverie. The word brought to mind the laboratory results Ranma had found in Osaka. "What do you mean, compatibility?"

"The human body is not naturally designed to play host to an entity such as Ryujin. Each generation of your family has grown more and more compatible with the Ryujin phenotype. Essentially, it is accelerated evolution. Even so, it has taken nearly nine hundred years for your family's genetic structure to adapt to provide a suitable host. You must understand, though, that in terms of evolution, this is little more than the blink of an eye."

"Evolution ..." Akane mumbled, wide-eyed. "Gods, that's what it meant."

"That said," interrupted Anvil, "your own advancement is not yet complete. Your body is not yet fully evolved. We can't take the risk of waiting for your development to finish. For this reason, we wish to accelerate your development, and support it with a defensive system that will be implanted within your body."

"A defensive system? What kind of system?" Akane asked, clutching the blanket tightly to herself. She did not like the sound of the word 'implant'. "You're not implanting anything into me!"

"Please, allow us the opportunity to explain. Our technical expert will be here shortly to provide the details. Put simply, it will allow you to stand up to Ranma on even terms when she comes for you."

"'When'? I thought you said I was safe here."

"Ranma will come for you, it is inevitable. We can only delay her, we cannot stop her. That task falls to you."

Akane lowered her head to the pillow and looked up at the light overhead. She felt Hammer's weight leave the bed, but did not move. She knew they were lying to her, trying to trick her for a reason and purpose she did not understand. A feeling of smallness overcame her, a realisation that she was but a small part of a very large world.

"Get some rest. We'll call for the technical specialist. He will be here shortly to answer your questions."

She heard the words, but did not respond. The voice was Hammer's, or perhaps Anvil's. It was impossible to tell their voices apart. The very existence of those two hollowed-out shells, filled to overflowing with life energy stolen from the water, repelled her. The very idea of believing what they had said to her was almost laughable.

And yet, she found herself wondering. Some of what they had said sounded plausible. Part of her mind wondered if the two Hidari were telling the truth, and what it meant if they were. She shook her head, disbelieving. She had spent so long with Ranma, day in and day out, every waking moment. Ranma had become her life, the redheaded girl had become closer to her than anyone else. She simply could not imagine Ranma turning on her. The look on Ranma's face when their eyes met ... they were true friends. More than friends. Companions, partners.

And yet, she had seen Ranma's brutal barbarism directed against many Hidari in those months of friendship. Always Hidari. It was true that Ranma harboured a distinct disdain for humans, but it was always Hidari that were the object of her anger. But then, she could understand Ranma's dislike for the artificial constructs. She felt it herself, in the very core of her being.

She sighed and clutched one hand with the other, imagining it to be Ranma's. Her thoughts were running in circles, without a start nor an end. Despite what the Hidari had said, she still wanted Ranma to come and find her. Even if all they had said was true, she still wanted to be with Ranma. Death in Ranma's arms was preferable to this uncertainty and loneliness.

*** * ***

Yoiko leaned back in her chair and spun a ball-point pen back and forth between the fingers of one hand, letting out a sigh as she looked back and forth over the mounting pile of data she had amassed. There was nothing really of use; a deployment analysis report, briefing details for the rescue operation, but nothing that offered any insights into what had happened on the ground. 

There was very little traffic regarding Seraph Wing's operation, which was information in and of itself. As part of the support team she had read the operations reports in great depth from the moment of the system's initial activation - they had always been extremely verbose and detailed. The details about this deployment, however, were minimal to say the least.

Tapping her pen's tip against her mouth, she stared off into the distance as she pondered just what the lack of information meant. Obviously, a lack of analysis meant the mission was being kept quiet for one reason or another. But why? What purpose would concealing Seraph Wing's failure serve? 

Sitting back in her chair, she looked up at the ceiling and tried to think the situation through thoroughly. It had been a long shift, however, and she found herself struggling to think clearly. A stinging pain flared up behind her right eye and she squinted it closed, frowning. 

Great, a headache. Just what I need.

She scolded herself for not wearing her reading glasses. It ended in a headache, every single time. No matter how many times it happened, she never learned. Pulling open her desk drawer, she pulled out a bottle of aspirin pills and her glasses. Swallowing two pills with a swig of cold coffee, she put on her glasses and resumed reading the list of items her probes had retrieved.

The list was relatively short. There really was a dearth of anything useful. She had retrieved every piece of data recorded by the Red fireteam and yet she had found absolutely nothing of value--

She sat up with a start, her headache forgotten. She had been so preoccupied with Red fireteam that she had not even noticed the lack of reports for Blue fireteam. While Red's documentation was sparse, Blue's was totally absent. There wasn't even a log entry for their return. 

What the hell is going on here?

Perhaps, she reasoned, Blue's radio communications might offer some hint of what happened during the mission. It was a long shot, but it was the best she could think of.

It was a moment's work to bring up her copy of the archived radio communication from the mission. Compared to the deep probes required to retrieve what little post-mission data there was, it was child's play. A few deft keystrokes later and she was listening to an audio recording of the radio chatter from the Blue fireteam's helicopter. 

*** * ***

-Greetings, My Lady.-

-Aha! Got it!-

-Hello, Seraph Wing,- Ukyo said, a note of relief in her mental voice. She smiled to herself. -Thank you, Ryoga. I knew you could do it.-

-I was not properly shut down, My Lady. Commencing internal diagnostic.-

-Do it quickly, Seraph Wing. I need to get out of here.-

-I shall do my best, My Lady.-

Ukyo leaned back against the tree and let the supreme clarity of her spatial sense wash over her. It was seven forty-two in the morning, the ambient temperature was 11 degrees Celsius, she was securely fastened to a tree that was three-point-four-one metres high, and she had three fractured ribs.

The news was entirely bad, but she couldn't have been happier to hear it.

-It's working, Ryoga,- she said, elated. -I can sense things again.-

-Be careful,- Ryoga replied. -The system isn't exactly stable at the moment. The Frame is dead and unless Seraph Wing can fix it, it's going to stay that way for the time being. That means pretty much no biokinetic plating, very restricted feedback supplements for your muscles, and the range of your spatial sense is severely limited.-

-It's better than nothing,- she replied, cautiously optimistic. -Thank you.-

-Don't forget, you need to get out of there as soon as you can. Get to somewhere we can pick you up with one of the choppers. Once you're back aboard the Spring, we can repair the Wing properly.-

-Agreed,- she replied with a nod. She wanted to find Ranma, but she was not stupid enough to think she could put up any kind of fight in her current condition. Without the protection of her biokinetic plating, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was without Seriatim. In the rush to deploy, she had been unable to grab it from her quarters.

-The diagnostic is complete, My Lady. Several components of the Core are damaged but none critically so. System operation is within nominal parameters. The Frame is the most damaged component - I have prioritised repair operations accordingly.-

-You can fix it?-

-Yes, My Lady. I estimate time to repair the Frame module at approximately three hours, thirty-two minutes, sixteen seconds. Mark.-

-Ask it why it shut down, Ukyo.-

-Okay,- she replied. -Why did you shut down, Seraph Wing?-

-I received an encrypted medium-range burst transmission containing an emergency shutdown command. Authentication procedures verified its validity, and I was thus compelled to shut down the Core's main operations. I apologise, but I had no choice.-

-From where?-

-Unknown, My Lady. I can not pinpoint its origin.-

-A burst transmission?- Ryoga asked, surprised. -That doesn't make any sense. We're the only ones who know the access schema.-

-What does that mean?-

-It means either someone hacked into the system, or the transmission was sent from the Leviathan Spring.-

-From the sub? Who would do that?- Ukyo asked, alarm rising.

-It doesn't make any sense. A medium-range transmission wouldn't reach you from the Spring ... damn it, you don't have time to worry about this now. Concentrate on getting out of there. The military doesn't know about our link, so you'll have to get into contact with them yourself somehow. I'm going to see if I can dig up anything here.-

*** * ***

"Colonel Hunter, we have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"We have another Seraph Wing candidate. Bring your technical specialist down to the lab. We will require his assistance."

"Another candidate? How? Ukyo was the only suitable--"

"No questions, Colonel. Escort your technical specialist to the lab immediately. I have transferred the information you'll require for his briefing."

"All right, but I need something in return."

"What do you require?"

"I need to send out a search team. Mule's chopper disappearing isn't something I can just pretend not to notice. Pretty soon, people are going to notice they haven't come back. If I don't send out a search and rescue, the troops will get suspicious."

"Very well. Conduct your search. I would advise you to keep your troops under control, Colonel. We've seen what happens when you don't."

"Yes ... yes. I understand."

*** * ***

Ryoga's frown deepened as he read the Seraph Wing system log for the fifth time. It simply did not make any sense. The system was operating perfectly right up until the moment of shutdown. There was no reason for the system to simply go offline as it had.

What worried him most was the manner of shutdown - it was the emergency system termination, intended to be used in the case of critical system failure. No safety measures were taken - the system simply powered down, without terminating any biofeedback loops or nervous system connections. It was a matter of luck that the Frame was not operating at full capacity at the time of shutdown, or Ukyo's entire nervous system could have been incinerated.

The emergency system termination command was encoded with the highest level of security available. It was never intended to be triggered remotely. The system was designed to activate the procedure at the brink of meltdown, when all other options had been exhausted. The very idea of it being triggered remotely, and so easily, chilled him to the core. How had such a security breach taken place?

There was no record of the burst transmission Seraph Wing claimed took place. Admittedly, that was because he hadn't explicitly enabled a logging process for such transmissions, as he had not been expecting any. He had since activated a detailed log process specifically for burst transmissions.

He picked up a ball-point pen and began twirling it between his fingers, unsure of how to proceed. Without physical access to Seraph Wing, he could not obtain any useful information from the hardware. The system logs were detailed, but not detailed enough. He sighed, feeling suddenly helpless. Ukyo was relying on him, and he was failing to deliver. 

There were few possibilities he could think of. Either the system failed, or it was tampered with. Both seemed unlikely - the system was both well-designed and secure. Despite that, however, one of the two possibilities had come to pass. Which one, however, he did not know for sure.

He rubbed his temples, trying to put out of his mind the everpresent worry that Ukyo was on her own with Ranma nearby, and failing completely. He knew it would do no good to worry, but he could not stop himself. There had to be something he could do.

Reaching past his workstation, he picked up his phone receiver and dialled Yoiko's extension.

"Hibiki," came her voice as the phone was answered.

"Yoiko, it's me. I need your help with something."

"Good timing, I was just about to call you."

"Why?" he asked, curiosity piqued. Perhaps she had been more successful in her efforts than he. "Find anything useful?"

"You might say that, yeah," Yoiko replied, sounding perturbed. "I've been tracking the satellite communications. It turns out that Ukyo wasn't the only one left behind after the mission."

"What do you mean?"

"A couple of choppers are missing. One was lost when Ranma attacked it, but the other was Mule's, and - get this - he wasn't anywhere near the fighting. According to the radio logs, the closest he got was to pick up a few passengers."

"Who?" Ryoga asked, genuinely interested. 

"Two members of Scar's team. According to Scar's log, Hammer and Anvil didn't return with them, so it must have been them. The interesting bit is their other passenger - a female gunshot victim left behind by Ranma."

Ryoga ducked his head behind his monitor as a pair of research assistants walked past his desk. His was a relatively isolated area of the laboratory. Few came near his station, and those who did usually did not stay for long. Even so, he was not totally alone. When he was sure the uninvited visitors were gone, he raised his head once more.

"A female?" he asked, his voice lowered. 

"Yeah. I really had to dig deep to get the communication logs out. I don't really have any physical details, but I do have one very interesting tidbit of info. According to Harper's medical log, the girl was regenerating herself. Apparently, her wound pretty much healed itself."

"Regenerating herself?" Ryoga stammered, taken aback. "That means she's either ... Gods, no wonder they are keeping it quiet!"

"I know. Ryoga, there's more going on here than we know. They've always said there were only two beings that could regenerate themselves - Ranma and Ukyo. If they were lying about that, what else are they lying about?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions. They might not have known either," Ryoga replied, trying his best to stay calm and rational. "Where did the chopper land?"

"It didn't. The chopper's last transmission indicates they were heading out over the ocean. After that, nothing. There's no log entry for their landing, and there's no way they'd have enough fuel to stay in the air this long."

"So they either landed somewhere else, or they crashed."

"There's a lot of radio traffic flying around now talking about a search and rescue operation for the chopper, so I'm guessing they crashed."

Ryoga chewed his pen thoughtfully, trying to come to grips with what he had heard. If what Yoiko had found was true, it meant there was either more than one dragon, or more than one of Ukyo's kind. What he didn't quite understand was why the military would go to such great lengths to keep that information secret. 

"What do you think?" Yoiko asked.

"I'm not sure what to make of it," Ryoga replied honestly. "Keep digging, see what you can find. There's too much going on for this to all be a coincidence."

"It doesn't make any sense, and it still doesn't tell us what caused Seraph Wing to fail," Yoiko pointed out.

"Actually, that's why I was calling. Apparently, it was a burst transmission containing the emergency shutdown sequence."

"What? That's impossible!"

"That's what I thought, too," Ryoga replied. "I managed to get the AI back online, and that's what it's reporting. From what I can gather from the hardware's diagnostics, it would seem that's what happened. I want you to look into it, see what happened. Someone had to send that transmission, and I want to know who it was."

"Okay, you got it," Yoiko replied. "I'll get to the bottom of it. If it happened, I'll let you know who sent it."

"Thanks, sis. I owe you another one."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll add it to the collection. Listen, I'd better--"

Ryoga's attention was caught by movement in his peripheral vision. When he looked, he saw Colonel Hunter, flanked by a pair of lieutenants, heading directly for him. The look on Hunter's face and the brisk pace of his stride suggested he was not in any mood for light conversation.

"I gotta go," Ryoga said, interrupting Yoiko. "The Colonel's coming. Keep searching, Ukyo is counting on us. I'll call back as soon as I can."

He placed the receiver back in its cradle and switched his computer to a relatively benign-looking application moments before the Colonel arrived at his desk. Pretending to be surprised, he looked up at Hunter.

"You are to come with me," Hunter said, not bothering with the formalities.

"Now?" Ryoga asked, somewhat taken aback. Perhaps, he realised, the Colonel was on to him, and this was his escort to the brig. He swallowed, and hoped he was not sweating as much as he thought he was.

"Right now."

*** * ***

The Colonel's speedy pace had not slowed at all, and Ryoga found himself struggling to keep up. His cane clattered noisily with each hurried step, shaking back and forth each time he put his weight upon it as he sped along as best he could. The lieutenants did an admirable job of maintaining their position behind him, matching his somewhat erratic pace perfectly.

He had been marched along for several minutes, down corridors he did not recognise. The rumble of the engine room and the power generation facilities grew louder with each step, indicating they were moving aft, but beyond that he knew nothing. 

They came to an enormous door, two guards standing at rigid attention to either side. The Colonel saluted them as they approached, and the two guards returned the gesture.

The Colonel stopped as they reached the door and Ryoga stopped behind him, his aching knee grateful for the rest. He reached down and rubbed it gingerly, tender flesh complaining at the contact. His knee had been bothering him lately, and the unexpected walk had not done it any good. Glancing up from his knee, he watched the two guards remove small cards from their shirt pockets and simultaneously slide them through two card readers on either side of the door. A speaker above the door chirped a series of beeps, and with a hiss the door slid open.

"Come with me, Ryoga."

He nodded and stepped after the Colonel, noticing only after the door began to close behind him that the lieutenants were not following. He had never even seen this door before, let alone where it led. 

His footfalls were loud, metallic, the floor below feeling very much like metal grating. The room was dark, leaving him with little idea of just what he was standing upon. When the floor juddered violently and began to slowly descend he nearly fell, only to be stopped by the Colonel's hand upon his shoulder.

"Careful, you don't want to fall."

"No, Sir," he replied automatically, silently grateful for the help. The way his footsteps echoed, it seemed that the shaft they were descending through was long indeed. He had always know the Leviathan Spring was large, but it was only in that moment that he began to appreciate its sheer -enormity-.

"Several hours ago a strike mission was launched against Ranma Saotome by members of Alpha Team. Officially, the mission was a failure. However, the story being told is not entirely accurate."

"Sir?" Ryoga asked, feigning ignorance. He knew a lot more about the operation than he was supposed to. Even knowing of its existence was more than he was supposed to know.

"While the mission was a failure in that Ranma herself was not killed, the team was able to salvage the operation and take custody of another individual."

"Another individual, Sir?" he asked, no longer needing to pretend to be surprised. 

"Yes. This individual has displayed remarkable regenerative capabilities very similar to those exhibited by Ukyo Kuonji. That is why you have been called upon."

The elevator juddered to a halt, and another set of doors opened before them, revealing a well-lit corridor beyond. Unlike the uniformly grey corridors he was used to, these corridors were predominantly black.

"You want me to install another Seraph Wing?" Ryoga asked, taken aback as realisation dawned. "But the hardware was tailored specifically to Ukyo!"

"The new subject shows every indication of being compatible with the system. Modifications will have to be made to the hardware design, but you are capable of making those changes."

"I ... I suppose, I mean, I'd never really considered ...."

"The decision has already been made."

Hunter led Ryoga from the elevator shaft and down the corridor, resuming punishing pace he had established. Ryoga looked along the corridor as they proceeded, glancing to and fro at every intersection they passed. They took several turns, their path becoming increasingly convoluted and mazelike. The corridors themselves were bare, with no real distinguishing features. He tried to pay attention to where he was being led, but knew he could easily get lost in such a place.

There were two important differences that did leap to his attention, however: no security cameras, and no military personnel. The corridors were mostly empty, but the few people he did see were not dressed in military uniform.

"What is this place?"

"This is the Delta laboratory. Its existence is classified at the highest level. Officially, this entire area is designated as 'storage section 9'. That is all most people will ever know. This is the laboratory that developed the Seraph Wing AI construct, among other things."

Ryoga reeled at that revelation. He had always imagined the Seraph Wing AI being developed in some far-off laboratory, not aboard the very vessel it was being used upon. 

"Obviously," Hunter continued, "You are not to divulge anything you see, hear or learn in this laboratory. The penalties for doing so are severe, to say the least. You have only been permitted to enter this area because of your specialist knowledge, and because I personally vouched for your reliability and integrity. I would recommend for your own safety you do not abuse my trust."

"Understood, Sir," Ryoga acknowledged, trying his hardest not to imagine those penalties. He fell silent as they continued along the corridor, his imagination defying his wishes. 

"Here we are," Hunter said, gesturing toward a plain black door. "This is the containment facility. The subject is alone and unarmed, so you have nothing to worry about on that front. Make your initial assessment, and return to me when you are finished."

"You're not ... coming with me?" Ryoga asked, alarm bells ringing loudly in his mind. 

"No. It's important that you gain her trust, if this procedure is to be successful. Barging in with a military escort on your first meeting is hardly likely to help in that regard. Don't worry, though, she has just been sedated and is quite docile."

"I don't know if I should--"

"Relax. There's nothing to be afraid of. She's just a person, she's not going to hurt you. She's more afraid of this than you are. You'll be fine. Just go in there, conduct your analysis, and try to reassure her. Don't ask too many questions, though. We don't want her to feel like she's being interrogated."

Ryoga stared at the Colonel for several moments, unsure of what to do. Some tiny part of him hoped the Colonel would smile, that it would all be a big joke, and that he wasn't being sent in to deal with whatever lay in that room by himself. There was no change in Hunter's expression. Ryoga let out a defeated sigh.

"If you're sure, Sir," he replied, his firm voice belying his nervousness. He took a step toward the door, and it slid open to welcome him. He was entirely convinced, despite his own curiosity, that there were many people vastly more qualified to handle this situation than him. A question came to mind. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at the Colonel. It seemed almost ludicrous to ask, but it was as good a place to start as any.

"What's her name?"

"Tendo. Akane Tendo."

*** * ***

-Analysis of the tree is complete, My Lady. The trunk shows no signs of rot or other structural weakness.-

-That's just great,- Ukyo said with a frustrated sigh. -So how am I supposed to get out of this?-

-The most likely method of escape is to break the chain holding you. Once the Frame module is online, you will be easily able to do so.-

Ukyo scowled. It had been only two hours, three minutes and thirteen seconds since the repairs had started. Waiting another hour for the Frame to come online was far too long. -I need something faster than that. See if you can find a weak link in the chain, or something. Anything.-

-As you wish, My Lady. Commencing analysis.-

She glanced around once more, uncomfortably aware of her own helplessness. Even if there had been a pair of bolt cutters right in front of her, with her hands so securely held there was no way to use them. It was all she could do to shuffle back and forth slightly against the tree. So tight were the bonds that even breathing was difficult. 

-Analysis complete. There are no structural flaws in the chain sufficient to weaken its integrity.-

"Damn it!" she yelled, infuriated. She struggled wildly against her chains, yanking as hard as she could against them. Her arms and wrists scraped and scratched against the rough tree bark, cutting another dozen scratches across her skin. With a cry of frustration she gave up and slumped once more against the tree.

-This is getting me nowhere!- she said, panting. -Where the hell is that search and rescue team?-

-I do not detect any air traffic in the vicinity,- Seraph Wing replied. -Although my range is severely limited.-

-That was a rhetorical question,- she replied. She wanted to rub her forehead to ease the painful headache that was building in her head, but the bonds that held her denied her even that relief. -I swear, when I get out of this I'm going to beat the living hell out of Ranma Saotome, Frame or not.-

-I would advise against that course of action, My Lady. Without the Frame you will not survive.-

-Damn it, I was-- oh, just forget it!-

-As you wish, My Lady.-

A loud cracking sound rumbled over the mountainside, sending a flock of birds retreating from the trees into the sky. A long, slow creaking sound followed, and finally a thunderous crash. Ukyo watched the birds scatter skywards.

-What the hell was that?-

-Unknown, My Lady. It would seem that something has felled a tree.-

Another crash followed, and another, and another. Birds filled the sky, retreating from the disturbance. Ukyo watched the multitudes fly overhead at great speed. The sky cleared a few moments later, leaving a noticeable silence. 

-It's stopped.-

-I'm detecting movement in the treetops, My Lady. I believe it may be---

"Ranma!" Ukyo yelled, jolting to attention as the cloaked figure landed silently before her with catlike grace. Ranma slowly rose to her feet, the puddle of black liquid at her feet drawing into her cloak as she stood. They were both still for a moment, simply staring at each other. 

The moment passed, and Ranma moved - in the blink of an eye, she was upon Ukyo. Ranma's hand closed around her throat, frozen fingers robbing her body of feeling as they tightened their grip. Ukyo flailed hopelessly against the tree, unable to do anything more than gurgle as Ranma's grip cut off the blood supply to her head.

She felt herself being lifted, her back scraping against the tree as Ranma raised her easily with one hand. Faint creaking and snapping sounds registered in her ears as the thick chains holding her gave way. She tried to move her newly-freed arms and legs, but her body was rapidly succumbing to unconsciousness and her limbs refused to obey.

Ranma's face drew near and bitterly cold breath washed over Ukyo's face, robbing it of what little feeling remained. The abysmal chill penetrated her entire body, leaving her no doubt of its cause: Ranma was quite literally squeezing the life from her, leaving behind only cold, empty nothingness.

She looked into Ranma's eyes as they watched her dying, the white-hot fire of apocalyptic fury burning bright behind the frozen blue orbs and their minatory stare. The world began to spin, the sun's light fading as she felt the grip of unconsciousness closing upon her mind. 

Just as the world faded to black she felt the grip on her throat relent and a torrent of air flooded into her lungs - a physiological slap in the face that brought her from her torpor. She coughed, choked, forced her watering eyes open. Ranma still stood before her, still staring at her, still holding her body aloft. 

Ranma spoke, three words escaping her mouth in a feral, guttural growl.

"Where is she?"

**T E N**


	17. Come Hell or High Water

* * *

**T E N**

  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**   
_"Come Hell or High Water"_

* * *

Link activated the helicopter's external sensors, her fingers gliding efficiently over the control pad as she quickly brought several systems online. The screen flickered to life, showing a blue-tinted representation of the forest area directly below them. Between the heavy noise of the chopper's rotors turning overhead and the concentration required to monitor the wide array of sensors, it was several moments until she realised Scar was talking to her.

"Sir?" she asked, without looking up.

"Progress report!" Scar shouted, his voice drowned out by the roar of air surging through the vehicle.

Baker had opened the door and was leaning out into the morning sun, sweeping his gun back and forth as he peered down into the forest. Despite the wide selection of sensor equipment aboard the chopper he insisted on searching with his own eyes. The net effect was a deafening gale that drowned out all but the loudest of speech.

"Sensors online, Sir. No sign of activity below."

"Keep searching," Scar instructed. "She's down there somewhere. There's a lot of ground to cover, and we might not have much time to do it. With Bravo out looking for Blue's chopper we're all Wing has, so let's get to it."

"I hope Ukyo's alright," Angel said, peering over Link's shoulder to view the monitor. "I hope that monster hasn't hurt her."

"Acknowledged, Sir," Link replied, giving Angel a small nod as she added, "I'll find her."

Ever since the incident, Angel had been an emotional wreck. Link supposed she would have felt the same if she had been in the same situation. She was slightly concerned about the attachment Angel seemed to have formed to Wing since the incident, but tried not to dwell on it too much. There would be time to talk to Angel later, after the mission.

*** * ***

A dozen warnings flared wildly inside Ukyo's skull, each more urgent than the last. Blood pressure, oxygen levels, heart rate, each running dangerously low as Ranma's icy grip upon her throat threatened to squeeze the very life out of her. Two piercing blue eyes stared directly into hers, seeming to see into her as she swam at the very edge of consciousness. She tried to move, to struggle, to do anything but look into those eyes, but her body was held in thrall.

"Where. Is. She?"

Where is who? What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bitch? Who? How can I tell you if I don't know?!

"Who?" she croaked, using all of her strength to force the word through her compacted windpipe. All of the outrage she felt, all of the fear and the anger, summed up in one word.

She felt her body move away from the tree, only to be slammed powerfully back into it. She felt a faint awareness of the vibration running through the tree trunk, but felt no pain in her own body. It simply hung limply, a rag doll unable to move of its own accord.

Green leaves, shaken loose by the impact, drifted gently down toward the earth below. Those unlucky enough to fall too near to Ranma shriveled and died, green turning to brown as they curled and crumbled, dissolving into tiny pieces in midair.

"Akane. Tell me where you've taken my Akane!"

The air was thick with the stench of death. She could feel her body growing cold, a profound numbness that was spreading from her fingers and toes, creeping ever closer to her heart. She was losing the fight, she could feel it.

Who the hell is Akane?

Ranma's hands tightened; Ukyo could feel her veins throbbing weakly against their vicelike grip, growing weaker with each passing beat. Her eyelids grew heavier, and she could feel them closing. The darkness surrounded her, sweeping the world away with its deceptively soothing touch.

Something happened then that she did not expect. The leaves stopped falling, instead hanging suspended in midair. The icy chill of Ranma's breath faded to nothing. The faint beating of her heart stopped. All was motionless. She tried to move her eyes, to blink, but she was utterly immobile.

-My Lady, can you hear me?-

-I can hear you. I don't understand ... am I dead?-

-No, My Lady. I am communicating with you on a high-frequency channel that operates at a much higher speed than most normal brain functions. Using this method we are able to transmit tens of thousands of messages per second.-

-I ... I don't ... why has everything stopped?-

-Nothing has stopped, My Lady. You are merely perceiving the world at a much faster rate. That is why you cannot move your eyes. They are moving; but they are moving very slowly.-

-So I'm still alive.-

-Yes, My Lady. I suggest that we take steps to ensure you remain so. Listen carefully; we do not have much time.-

-I ... I'm listening. Tell me how to get out of this.-

-My tactical analysis of the situation is complete. Without the Frame there is no way for you to overcome Ranma. At this rate, your brain will be starved of oxygen in thirty-seven seconds and you will die. My analysis suggests only one possible means of survival.-

-Which is what?-

-Reason with her, My Lady. She is requesting the location of this 'Akane' person. Tell her you know where Akane is. Tell her you will lead her to Akane. If she believes you have information that can assist her, she will cease her attack.-

-But I don't know anything about Akane! I don't even know who she is.-

-I suggest we cross that bridge when we come to it, My Lady. It will almost certainly be further in the future than thirty-seven seconds. Once the Frame is repaired, our position will be much stronger.-

As quickly as it had stopped, the world moved again. The leaves that were held suspended flitted effortlessly to the ground, skimming along the dried mud as the wind pushed them. The pressure around her throat resumed, her lungs struggled for breath, and at last her heart beat once more.

"Okay ... okay," she managed, choking the words through clenched teeth. The deathgrip upon her throat loosened, and precious air flooded down her throat and into her lungs. She coughed, choking on the sudden abundance of oxygen, and struggled to speak. "I'll tell you."

"Where is she?!" Ranma demanded.

"I can ... I can show you where she is."

*** * ***

Ryoga wiped his forehead, surprised at the humidity of the air. The hiss of the door behind him also sealed him off from the cooler, air-conditioned air he was used to. A thin sweat began forming on his brow almost immediately; reaching up, he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his lab coat.

Hot in here, he thought to himself. Dark, too. Perhaps Akane was sleeping?

The room was, fortunately, not pitch black. A dull red light strip overhead hummed quietly as it bathed the room in a faint, ruddy glow that reminded him of a photographic darkroom. On the other side of the room he could see the outline of Akane, laying beneath a thick blanket on the bed.

Her arms rested atop the blanket, a thick leather strap tied over each wrist. An intravenous drip hung suspended from a pole next to the bed, clear liquid running down a tube connected to her left forearm. He swallowed, and stepped closer. Her eyes were half-open but glassy, gazing dreamily off into space. Emboldened by her lack of movement he stepped forward again, and again she did not notice.

Whatever they sedated her with, it seems to be working, he thought. But why are her eyes open?

He was supposed to be conducting an initial assessment for Seraph Wing suitability, as they had with the headless Ukyo, but for the moment he merely wanted to see what this Akane looked like. He had always been told that there were two immortals; the dragon, and the dragon hunter. Ranma was the dragon, Ukyo was the dragon hunter. What did that make Akane?

Coming to the side of her bed, he looked her up and down. She certainly looked normal enough; little more than a teenage girl. But then, appearances could be deceptive. Ukyo looked like a normal teenage girl, as did Ranma, and they were anything but normal.

Even with such thoughts in his mind, it was hard to imagine Akane as anything but a quiet, peaceful girl, laying dozily upon her bed. Her head lolled slightly to one side, her cheek pressing against the abundant hair that covered her pillow.

"My name is Ryoga," he said. "I'm here to examine you. Can you hear me?"

Something unusual caught his eye. The hair beneath Akane's face was changing colour. It was difficult to make out beneath the red light, but it was definitely changing colour. A slightly lighter shade of black - he guessed it was blue, without the red tinge of the light - was silently running down the strands, oozing along her hair slowly, but surely.

What the hell is that?

He'd almost overlooked it; the crimson lighting had almost hidden it from his view entirely. The more he stared, however, the more obvious it became. Almost without realising it, he had leaned over her bed to get a better view.

He jolted upright as he felt Akane's hand surge forward, wrapping itself around his wrist in a solid grip. Panicking, he yanked his arm away as hard as he could, but her hold would not yield.

His wide eyes shot to her face, his panic rising as he saw a tiny smile on lips that had a moment ago been neutral. He looked into her eyes, those deep blue orbs, and let out a gasp. Within them there was a faint white glow, purest alabaster, that defied his efforts to look away. He could feel those eyes upon him, within him, sucking him in, wrapping their gaze around him.

"Gotcha!"

*** * ***

Akane lay face-up in a pool of hot silvery water, a tranquil, rock-bound pond that held her easily afloat. The air around the pool was cold, her surroundings masked by a thick, impenetrable fog. There was no noise save for the sound of a small waterfall, more of the white water tumbling over the edge to renew the pond. Wispy clouds of steam rose from the base of the waterfall, drifting off to join the fog encircling her.

She stretched out, weightless, suspended in the wonderful, soothing liquid. She could not remember ever feeling so relaxed, so centred and at peace. The very touch of the water on her naked skin rejuvenated her, filling her with its delightful heat and easing the pain from her muscles. She let out a long, slow sigh and closed her eyes. The water seemed to wash away her cares and worries, leaving behind only contentment.

This place is wonderful.

The vague question of just where 'this place' was drifted lazily across the fringes of her consciousness but was ignored, unwelcome in a mind filled with the delicate pleasure of the water pouring onto and over her. Stretching her arms out overhead she let out a long, slow, happy yawn. She had been on her feet for so long in the mud and the rain that she had forgotten what a soft, warm resting place felt like.

A faint hum caught her ears, and she opened her eyes to see where it was coming from. A multitude of tiny lights buzzed back and forth through the fog around her, flitting to and fro like fireflies. Even through the thick fog the tiny pinpricks of light shone through, tinting the fog itself white with diffuse light.

"Wow," Akane murmured, entranced by the delicate sway of the lights, each moving independently but somehow bound together, ebbing back and forth through the fog, a luminescent ocean swell. "They're beautiful."

All around her the lights swam, a galaxy of stars dancing to some unknown beat, twisting and swirling around each other with boundless energy. One of them pulled away, bursting through the fog to speed away from it and toward Akane.

She watched closely as it floated toward her in a gentle arc, glimmering with a bright glow that was no longer obscured by the fog. The thought that it might be dangerous flitted across her mind, moving as quickly as the pixyish ball of light before her. The thought was quickly dismissed; this creature was playful, not malevolent. It did not slow as it neared her, but instead veered off its trajectory and began to zip to and fro around her head, zigging and zagging seemingly at random.

The tiny sprite danced around her, skimming occasionally across her skin with a touch that was warm and ticklish. Akane found herself giggling as the little nymph sped across her shoulders and through her hair, sending droplets of water flying as strands were knocked up into the air.

Come back here, she thought to herself, squirming at the ticklish touch. One hand raised to try and catch the little creature, but it was speedy and nimble, her hand seeming slow and clumsy by comparison. Determined, she made swipe after swipe, trying to snatch the mischievous little being from the air.

Patience, or perhaps good fortune, paid off; after several misguided attempts, she managed to snag it, caging it between her fingers and the palm of her hand. Delighted, she let out a cry of triumph.

"Gotcha!"

The creature buzzed back and forth, banging against the walls of its cage, but it could not escape. Akane raised her hand toward her face, peeking in between her spread fingers to look closely at the nymph. It shone brightly, thick shafts of white light radiating through the gaps between her fingers.

She stared closely, watching the tiny movements it made as it buzzed back and forth. A small dark patch marked one side, a shadow lurking within the alabaster radiance. She frowned, and made soothing sounds.

"You're hurt, aren't you, little guy?"

*** * ***

"Let me go!" Ryoga yelled, tugging against Akane's hand. Little guy? What the hell was she talking about? This girl was insane!

"Maybe this'll help you feel better, hmm?" she said, in that same distant tone - almost an echo rather than a voice. She smiled, her eyes still locked directly upon his. "Just relax."

Ryoga considered yelling for help - he had no idea why he had not done so already - but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to. There was something about the look on her face - something about the light that shone within her eyes that felt intensely familiar to him, almost soothing. A warmth spread up his arm, and his struggles slowed.

A droplet of water struck his cheek, making him flinch. He glanced upwards, and his jaw fell open. What the -hell- is that?

*** * ***

Akane smiled intently at the little creature as she lowered her hand into the milky water, submerging it partway. It splashed furiously into and out of the water, tickling the palm of her hand delightfully as it danced about.

"Hey, calm down!" she said through her laughter, wriggling her fingers at the ticklish sensations. "You'll hurt yourself!"

As if on cue, the creature slowed and eventually came to a stop, resting peacefully upon the water's surface. She lowered her head, dipping her chin into the water, and watched it closely, her smile growing wider. It felt wonderful to be helping the creature; there was something so innately -right- about it that she could not stop smiling.

She wondered for a moment why she had thought to bathe the creature, but could not quite put her finger upon it. Whatever it was, it was right. The water seemed to be just the thing her new friend needed.

"It's nothing that a nice warm bath won't fix. You'll be better in no time!"

*** * ***

"A bath," Ryoga muttered, staring incredulously at the heavy, water-laden rainclouds that had formed overhead, hovering just beneath the ceiling. The room's red light danced among the clouds, illuminating the first few fat droplets of rain as they began to tumble down to the floor. "You call this a bath?"

Before he could say another word, the clouds opened, casting down a torrent of water. He went from dry to drenched in a matter of moments. The rain was not cold, as he had expected, however; the droplets were warm to the touch, almost hot. The many puddles that had formed across the floor let off trails of steam that snaked up to rejoin the cloud overhead. Before long, the room resembled a sauna.

Still firmly secured, Ryoga could do little but watch the rain fall. He knew that this was impossible, that it could not be happening, and yet it was, before his very eyes. He shook his head in wonderment, and let the warm liquid wash over his face. What else could he do?

At least he didn't seem to be in any danger. Far from it - the water's warmth radiated a sense of security, of sanctuary. Even standing in a restricted security zone, in the bowels of a classified submarine, next to a potentially dangerous, regenerative lifeform, he felt somehow safe.

"If I'd known this was going to happen, I would have brought an umbrella," he decided, finally overcome by the absurdity of it all. Closing his eyes, he let the warmth soak into him.

*** * ***

"Hey, you're looking as good as new!" Akane announced, delighted with the progress her friend had made. The newfound brilliance of its glow made her realise just how faded it had been only moments ago. The darkness was gone, the shadow banished.

Slowly and carefully, she lifted her hand from the water, gave her friend one final smile, and opened her hand. The tiny sprite immediately jumped to life, buzzing from her hand and into the air. It hovered there for just a moment before lowering down once more to touch her palm. There it stayed for just a moment, before zipping away from her to rejoin the others in the fog.

She sat up, shivering a little as the cold air touched her bare skin, and smiled as she watched her friend return to its brethren.

"You're welcome."

*** * ***

Ryoga jumped as his arm was released, realising suddenly how dizzy he felt. He staggered backwards, struggling to maintain his balance, his blurred vision unable to find a reference point amongst the rain. His head spun, flashes of colour spinning in front of his eyes.

His arms wheeled, looking for support but finding none. His cane was long forgotten, and his hands could not find purchase to support him. He felt his body tipping backwards, and a faint sense of dread penetrated the euphoric anaesthesia that had spread through his mind. Something struck his back, or rather, was struck by his back; a small, collapsible table had fallen under his weight, sending equipment flying through the air to crash to the ground below. The table clattered to the ground nearby.

The impact was much softer than he expected; in fact, he barely felt a thing. There was a splash, he knew that much. He gave momentary thanks that he had not fallen face-down into a puddle. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to move, but thankful for the support of the floor. If nothing else, it allowed him to fight off the debilitating dizziness that had afflicted him.

The rainclouds remained overhead, still drenching him with rain, a thousand kaleidoscopic droplets hurtling toward his face. Among them, though, was a large white shape. Puzzled, Ryoga willed his eyes to focus upon it as it drifted down toward him.

With considerable reluctance his eyes obeyed, pulling the fuzzy white shape into sharp relief. He could only hold it in focus for a moment, but it was long enough to recognise it for what it was: a single white feather, floating gently downwards toward him.

Moments later, unconsciousness took him.

"You're welcome."

*** * ***

Ukyo stepped forward carefully, keenly aware of the sword-tip pressing firmly against her neck. She stumbled on a rock, and felt the weapon press deeper, penetrating her skin. She fought the instinct to flinch.

-My Lady, Ranma's weapon is pointed directly at a critical Core juncture located between your third and fourth cervical vertebrae. If this juncture is damaged, the Core will cease to function correctly, to say nothing of the harm such damage will do to your body. I recommend extreme caution.-

-I don't need you to tell me how dangerous it is to have someone point a sword at your neck,- Ukyo groused. -How much longer is the Frame repair going to take?-

-Fifty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds remain, My Lady.-

-I don't know if I can string Ranma along for another hour. She's no fool. She's starting to get suspicious.-

-Yes, My Lady.-

The march downhill continued, the trees and foliage growing steadily less dense with each footstep. The ground grew muddier and more boglike as the slope lessened, a night's worth of rain having collected near the base of the mountain. Sunlight broke through the trees, and the sound of running water met her ears as she stepped out into a grassy area beyond the forest's edge.

Before her the Toyohira River flowed, its clear waters running rapidly by. The flow was turbulent, the river's banks swelled by the recent downpour of rain. Ukyo stepped to the water's edge and looked down at the pebble-lined riverbed.

-Damn it. I'm running out of places to lead her,- she said, turning to lead Ranma along the riverbank, following the flow of the water.

"You're stalling for time."

"No, I'm not."

"She's been hurt, hasn't she?"

"No, she hasn't. We're getting close now," Ukyo bluffed. "We're nearly there."

"I hope for your sake that you're not lying," Ranma growled, accompanying her words with a prod of her sword. "Akane is the only thing in this world that matters to me. She -is- this world to me. If you have harmed my world, then I'll destroy yours, along with all of your precious Phoenix friends."

"What?" Ukyo said, Ranma's words holding her in place. The cold touch of the blade to her neck stopped her from turning. "Destroy my world? What are you saying?"

"They've been hunting me for centuries, just like you. You're not like them, though. I can see their souls; I can destroy them. But you, you hide your soul. When I cut you with my sword I cut your flesh, but not your spirit. But now, you are wearing the uniform of a Phoenix soldier. Now, things are different. You're working together. You're one of them."

-What the hell is she saying?- Ukyo asked. -How can I have been hunting her for centuries? I'm only ... only ....-

-My Lady?-

-Gods, I don't even know how old I am.-

-Your physical condition is that of an eighteen-year-old, My Lady.-

-I don't think I'm eighteen. I survived having my head cut off, but I don't remember much of anything before that. I could be ten thousand years old and not know it.-

-Speculation and nothing more, My Lady.-

"The Phoenix soldiers are weak. The slightest touch of my sword makes them burn. But you, you are different. You are strong," Ranma said. She fell silent for a moment before speaking, her voice quiet. "They know I can't kill you. And now, they are using you to get to me."

"What are you saying?"

"Gods, it all makes sense," Ranma continued. "You don't have Akane. -They- have her. They took her, while I was fighting you. You're just a distraction."

-She is becoming increasingly agitated, My Lady. You must calm her.-

-I want to know what she's saying. She seems to know much more about me and what's going on than I do.-

-To allow her to continue is an unacceptable risk. She may grow violent. I suggest you continue this conversation at a more prudent time.-

-A more prudent time?-

-When you do not have a sword at your neck, My Lady.-

"If they've harmed her, I will hunt down every single one of those Phoenix bastards, and then I will come for you," Ranma growled. "You may be immortal, but I -will- find a way to make your soul burn, even if it takes an eternity."

-I see what you mean, Seraph Wing,- Ukyo said. She thought for a moment. -How long will it take to repair the radio? I've got an idea.-

-Your communication array is much more sophisticated than a mere radio, My Lady. Nevertheless, I estimate it could be repaired in approximately fifty-three seconds by the primary repair modules.-

-Do it. Get it up and running again.-

-This will delay the Frame repairs, My Lady. I strongly advise against such a course of action.-

-Just get on with it. I have a plan.-

-As you wish, My Lady. Might I enquire as to the nature of your plan?-

-You'll see.-

"You're right," Ukyo called over her shoulder. "You're right. I don't have Akane. They took her."

Ranma's arm grabbed her shoulder. She felt herself being pulled back, and the cold touch of Ranma's blade upon her throat. "Tell me where they took her. Now."

"Submarine ... there's a submarine," she said, trying to keep still as Ranma's arm moved across her chest, holding her tightly. "The Leviathan Spring. She was taken there."

-What are you doing?- Seraph Wing demanded. -This is a mistake!-

-Our mission was to return Ranma to the Spring, yes?- Ukyo countered. -This way, she'll come without a fight. There are facilities aboard the Spring to deal with her, aren't there?-

-Yes, but revealing the location of the Spring is not a wise tactical decision. If she knows the location of the Spring, it becomes vulnerable. There are many people aboard. What if she were to attack it?-

-She won't. Not if she thinks Akane is aboard. Once we're at the Spring, we can contain her. I'll get Seriatim and cut her in two. I'll kill her, somehow.-

-I will attempt to find a less risky solution.-

-No. Show some faith, Seraph Wing.-

-As you wish, My Lady,- Seraph Wing replied, complete with digitised sigh.

"Where is it?" Ranma asked, tightening her arm's grip.

"It's out at sea," Ukyo replied. "You'll have to take a helicopter to get there."

-The repairs are complete, My Lady. Please, be careful.-

Ranma fell silent for a moment before speaking. "Your new friends have many helicopters. Bring one, and we'll find out if you're telling the truth."

*** * ***

Scar looked over Baker's shoulder as the helicopter moved in a slow circle above the trees. They had been hovering around the mountain for several minutes, but had so far found nothing besides a flock of frightened birds. Each of his team members was searching in their own way; himself and Baker looking directly down at the ground, Angel and Link huddled around the sensor monitoring equipment at the rear of the chopper.

"Sir! I'm getting a signal!"

"What?" Scar replied, jolted to attention. "From where?"

"From Wing, Sir," Link replied. She tapped at the console with one hand, the other holding her headphones tight against one ear. "It's weak. Seems like it originated a couple of klicks south."

"South. Take this bird south," Scar called to the pilot. "What kind of signal is it?"

"Radio, Sir. Encoded with our standard algorithm. It's pretty garbled - I can't quite make it out. Give me a second, I'll see if I can clear it up."

"She's alive!" Angel exclaimed, delighted. She reached over and shook Baker's shoulder. "Hey, shut the door!"

"What?" asked Baker, pulling the door closed behind him as he turned to Angel. "What'd you say?"

"We've found her," Angel replied, beaming. "We've found her!"

"I've tidied up the signal," Link said. "I'll patch it through to your earpieces. It's still pretty weak, so listen closely."

Scar nodded his acknowledgement and raised one hand to his head, holding the earpiece tightly to his ear. The others aboard the helicopter did the same, each struggling to hear the faint sound.

"Repeat, this is Wing, requesting immediate assistance. Please respond."

"Wing, good to hear from you," Scar replied, intense relief washing over him. He let out a long breath. "You had us worried there for a while."

"Scar?"

"None other," he replied. He gave the others in the helicopter a determined look, and found it mirrored in their faces. "We're coming to get you. Just hang in there."

"No. Stop."

"Stop? Why?" Angel interrupted.

"Angel? Damn it, I didn't want to get you involved in this again. Is the whole team there?"

"Almost," Scar replied, glancing to the two empty seats on the far side of the chopper. "Why should we stop?"

"Listen to me very carefully. I'm not alone. Ranma is holding me hostage."

"What? Are you hurt, Ukyo?" Angel asked.

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but Ranma is demanding passage to the Leviathan Spring. Are there any other choppers nearby? I need an empty chopper to transport her."

"I'll check," Scar replied, and signaled for Link to cut the microphone. She nodded and complied. He sighed. "Damn it. We're the only team in town."

"We're the only chopper in this area," Link confirmed, examining the monitor closely. "Bravo's choppers are searching for survivors from Blue, and the remainder of the helicopters were damaged in our initial skirmish."

Scar rubbed his forehead, sweat staining his gloves. "Well, that leaves us with only one option."

He cast his eyes around the chopper, silently asking each of the others the same question. Baker and Link glanced at each other - Link looked terrified; Baker resolute. They both nodded their assent. Scar turned his eyes to Angel.

"She saved my life," Angel said firmly. "I'm not leaving without her."

"All right, we're in agreement. We'll pick her up ourselves."

A hushed murmur moved through the cabin, accompanied by furtive glances filled with questions. Scar sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

"I know we didn't plan for this, but we have to adapt as best we can. This is going to be a very delicate situation that could get really ugly really quickly, so let's try to keep our cool. If we get her to the Spring without incident we can contain her there, when we're not quite so cramped. Keep that in mind. We only have to get her to the Spring."

*** * ***

-Wing, we can confirm we have a chopper inbound to your location, ETA two minutes,- came Link's voice.

-Roger,- Ukyo replied, the communications array implanted at the base of her skull converting the thought patterns into radio waves, transmitting her response. -I'll be waiting.-

"A chopper is on its way," she said, the sharp blade against her neck preventing her from turning her head. "They'll be here any minute to pick us up."

"All without saying a word," Ranma replied, her frozen breath washing over Ukyo's ear. "Amazing what they've done to you with their technology, Ukyo. Phoenix has certainly advanced over the years. They've come a long way since the rabble of idiotic, drunken mercenaries that held you hostage all those centuries ago, don't you agree?"

Ukyo felt her chest tightening, Ranma's words ringing in her ears. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you don't remember?" Ranma replied sardonically. "I really shouldn't have saved your life that day. It was Shampoo's idea - she didn't know any better. I did consider simply leaving you with them, I must admit, but you looked so innocent. I was naive in those days. I never imagined you would end up working for them."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I'm surprised you've forgotten," Ranma continued, her voice growing quiet. She leaned in closer, soft lips brushing against Ukyo's skin. When she spoke, her words were empty, devoid of emotion and life. "I haven't forgotten. I remember saving your life. I remember your lies, I remember you pretending to be my friend. I remember your betrayal. And, most of all, I remember what you did to Kayoko."

Ukyo swallowed, painfully aware of Ranma's sword at her throat. She felt her palms sweating and a strange, sickly feeling spreading through her stomach. She had no idea what Ranma was talking about, and yet there was a strange familiarity to the words ....

"I will punish you until the end of time for what you did to her. You'll die, again and again and again, until death itself is no more," Ranma whispered icily, her words trailing into silence. The sound of her breath filled Ukyo's ear.

Ukyo struggled against Ranma's grip, but the hold was solid, leaving her no leeway. The slippery, opalescent material of Ranma's cloak flowed around her, coiling around her legs, tightly restraining her from her ankles to her hips. The intangible sense of Ranma's presence expanded, a profound sense of emptiness that engulfed her. She felt a dark presence growing behind her, a perception infinitely more vivid than her spatial sense.

"But that's -nothing- compared to what I'll do to you if they've hurt my Akane," Ranma giggled, a sound filled with manic malevolence. Slowly, she ran her tongue along the edge of Ukyo's ear, and sucked lightly at the lobe. "The others will just die, but you, I'll make you suffer. -Gods-, you will suffer."

Ukyo shuddered, the tingling sensation of Ranma's frozen tongue sliding moistly against her skin both repulsive and exhilarating at the same time. She closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the profound coldness that emanated from her captor, but despite herself she could feel her strength ebbing as Ranma's vampiric touch once again leached the warmth from her body.

Gods, what is she doing to me?

"You'll suffer for me," Ranma whispered, her voice changing, becoming deep, echoing within itself. Her words carried an ethereal gravity, demanding Ukyo's attention, her obedience. Their noses touched, their faces pressed together. Ukyo felt the muscles in Ranma's cheek move as she smiled. "You'll suffer in ways you can't imagine, in ways that only the immortal can."

Part of her cried out for mercy, urging her to give in, to surrender to the arctic embrace that held her. Her knees gave way and she fell back onto Ranma's chest, her head lolling onto Ranma's shoulder as frosted kisses trailed down the bare skin of her neck, each sapping her resolve more than the last. Through the spreading numbness she could feel Ranma's hand upon her body, touching her, constraining her. She hung limply, unable to resist.

Death shall be your lover, whispered a voice inside her mind. And you the faithful servant, dying for Ranma, for the rest of time. Bound together for all eternity, just as it should be. This is where you belong. Can't you feel it?

The voice echoed inside her mind, hypnotic, entreating her with its lyrical tone. The haunting words penetrated her body and her mind, compelling her with a will that would not be denied.

Your debt can never be paid. You are mine.

"Nooooo ...." she moaned, a keening wail that died in her throat. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, their heat hungrily devoured by Ranma's mouth as it caressed her skin. She felt herself surrendering, her mind and her body giving way to the dark, cold void that was consuming her. As it closed around her, one final thought crossed her lips, a faint, whispered cry. "Ryoga ... forgive me ...."

You belong to -me-, Ukyo. Just ... like ... Ranma.

She panted, the pounding beat of her heart deafening in her ears. Her eyes opened, the bright light of the sun illuminating the pale skin of Ranma's neck, lending it an almost translucent glow. Try as she might to stay still, she found her head tilting toward that porcelain skin, felt the gentle touch of her lips pressing against it.

Yes, whispered the voice, tendrils snaking into her mind. You both want this. I can feel it. Ranma understands, and so shall you.

Even as a drawn-out cry of anguish echoed in the edges of Ukyo's mind, a small smile spread across her face. She could no longer deny the need growing inside her; she nuzzled Ranma's neck, her shallow breath catching in her throat as her show of affection was rewarded, Ranma's hand slowly--

-Heads up, here we come!-

Both Ukyo and Ranma jolted at the sound of Scar's voice within Ukyo's mind, the cloak leaping from Ukyo's body and retreating to the ground, its departure far more rapid than its insidious arrival. They both snapped to attention, startled, as if jarred from a dream. Her head swam; she shook it, gulping down oxygen as she tried to pull herself from the remnants of Ranma's lustful hold.

"Let me go!" she yelled, willing her body to move. It did not obey, leaving her sprawled across Ranma. Ranma breathed heavily as well, and Ukyo felt her captor's head moving, seemingly glancing around them. Ranma's grip loosened slightly, but Ukyo was too disoriented to take advantage of the momentary lapse.

She felt herself being shoved forwards, leaving the swell of Ranma's chest behind as she swayed back and forth upon her own feet. A moment of silence passed between them.

-Come in, Wing. Do you copy?-

"Akane. I need to see Akane," Ranma said after a time, in a small, shaky voice that was her own. She took a deep breath and shook her head back and forth. A touch of hardness returned to her voice. "Take me to Akane."

Ukyo felt the grip of Ranma's arm grow tight around her shoulders. She raised one hand to her stomach and clutched it, lowering her head slightly, ignoring the bite of the blade at her neck as it sliced a tiny line across her skin. She dizzily looked down at her own shaking hand and saw the ground beyond it circling hazily, out of focus.

The approaching helicopter kicked up gusts of dust and air, sending dry leaves flying around the pair as the sounds of its rotors grew ever louder. She touched her stomach queasily, feeling very much as though her legs were about to give way.

-My Lady, what happened?- Seraph Wing asked. -I could not sense your presence. Are you alright?-

-I don't know,- Ukyo replied, fighting back nausea. -I felt ... I feel sick.-

*** * ***

Ryoga's eyes snapped open. Wide awake, his gaze zipped back and forth, taking in his surroundings. The sound of his own gasped breath filled his ears, joined by a multitude of others: the low buzz of the small red light overhead, the distant hum of an air-conditioning unit as it worked to cool the air, the low rumble of the Leviathan Spring's engines.

Vague memories began to resurface. Faint memories of rainclouds, sloshing water and clouds of steam smouldered in his mind, evoking a strong sense of familiarity. He stared at the ceiling, but it was bare; ran his hands along the metallic floor, but it was dry.

Was it a dream?

Slowly, cautiously, he sat up. A small table lay nearby, its legs broken. Fanned out beyond the table were dozens of scattered sheets of paper and mixed among them, tiny shards of broken glass. He stared at the table for a long time, confusion clouding his thoughts.

He quite clearly remembered falling, striking the table, but while the table remained, the water which caused his fall did not. The sheets of paper were typewritten, cleanly printed, showing no smudges or other signs of contact with moisture.

Glancing down at himself, he noted that his clothes were dry, which only added to his confusion. The warm, moist sensation of his shirt stuck to skin was etched clearly into his mind, the memory springing forth with surprising clarity. A scowl crossed his face - none of this made any sense.

Something caught his eye; a small white shape protruding from beneath his leg. A gentle tug revealed it to be a small feather, its length shimmering purest white, despite the pervasive red glow of the room's lighting. He swallowed, his throat dry. He certainly remembered the feather. Slowly, he got to his feet and moved toward the girl laying in the nearby bed. She was responsible for this, he knew, and he wanted to know what was going on.

"Ow!"

A dull pain jolted through his left foot, centred on the largest toe, and a dull wooden clatter filled the room. Hopping, clutching his stubbed toe, he looked down at the object he had accidentally kicked.

His eyes widened. It was his walking cane.

His hopping came to an abrupt stop, the pain forgotten. He was standing. Standing on his right leg, the leg Ranma had long ago shattered, fragmented into uselessness. Keeping his left foot aloft, he bent and straightened his right knee; it easily supported his weight, flexing without even the slightest twinge of pain.

His mind stood paralysed for a moment, uncomprehending. Gradually, as the realisation dawned that he was not dreaming, and not imagining, a wide grin spread across his face. He exhaled in a half-laugh, half-cough, scarcely believing what had happened.

"You did this, didn't you?" he asked, turning to Akane. Her eyes were upon him, staring through him, still glowing white at their cores. He swallowed as he stared at her hair. A luminescent hue infused the strands, an unnatural glow that he had seen once before. "Gods, you're a dragon, just like her."

The sleeping Akane did not answer.

*** * ***

Colonel Hunter watched Ryoga emerge from the containment room, his eyebrow quirked. The boy had only been gone for fifteen minutes. Ukyo's preliminary examination had taken much longer. He cleared his throat as Ryoga hobbled toward him.

"Report."

"Sir. The preliminary examination went well," Ryoga replied, seeming somehow distracted. He hastily added, "but it will take some time to modify a new Seraph Wing to suit her."

"Hopefully not as long as the last," Hunter prodded, his jaw tightening. The time constraints on this initiation were much more demanding than Ukyo's.

"I'll have to look at my data, but yes, it will be quicker than Ukyo's procedure, simply because we have done it before."

"Good. When will you begin?"

"I've got to do some theoretical work first, and consult with Yoiko," Ryoga replied. "We should be underway in a couple of days."

"Glad to hear it. Keep up the good work," Hunter replied. He watched Ryoga hobble away, and called after him, "I shouldn't have to remind you to keep this quiet. Tell Yoiko what she needs to know and nothing more. Understood?"

Ryoga looked back over his shoulder and nodded. "Yes, Sir. Understood, Sir."

Hunter watched the boy leave, narrowing his eyes. There was something different about him, but he could not put his finger upon it. A strange, wild look in his eyes, a slight change in the way he carried himself. He shrugged, and wrote it off as the imaginings of a mind under pressure.

"Send an escort to watch him," said a voice behind him.

Turning, he saw Hammer and Anvil standing in the corridor outside the containment room. Both regarded him cooly, their expressions identical, as always.

"No. I trust him. An escort would only make him suspicious."

"It is foolish to rely on him to keep such a thing secret," Anvil observed. "An armed escort would ensure his silence."

"No, damn it," Hunter countered, anger growing. "That boy is the closest thing I have to a son. I'm not going to treat him like a common criminal just because you two say so."

"As you wish," Hammer replied, acquiescent. "Remember, though, the responsibility lies upon your shoulders."

"We do not need to tell you what will happen if there is an information leak aboard this vessel."

"I know," Hunter said with a growl. He turned and began marching away from the twins. Spooks pissed him off, and he was in no mood to deal with their cloak-and-dagger bullshit. Ryoga was a good, honest boy, and unworthy of their paranoia. "If you'll excuse me, I have other tasks to take care of."

*** * ***

"He is a fool," Hammer muttered as the Colonel disappeared around a corner.

"Yes," Anvil agreed. "The boy is already deceiving him."

"It does not matter. Ryujin's progress is promising. You saw her abilities. Regeneration of that magnitude is far beyond the capabilities of her predecessors. Kayoko has finally chosen an heir."

"She is far more advanced than we had anticipated. She's crossed the threshold - nothing can stop her development now. She will soon surpass Ryukyu. At this point, an information leak is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant, yes, but not without consequences. Contact the Council, request a standby team of Ghosts. We may need them."

"They are already en route," Anvil said. "They will be here within the hour."

*** * ***

Ryoga leaned heavily against the elevator's handrail as the platform slowly ascended the shaft. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back, his heart pounded, his breath came in deep gulps. The Colonel must have known he was lying. Gods, he was a terrible liar.

He just hoped that the Colonel had fallen for his woefully poor acting, and his terribly artificial limping. There had been no examination, nor did he have any plans to modify Seraph Wing. He just needed to buy some time, time to think. He needed to think this situation through.

Come on, he urged the elevator. Go faster. Go.

Sliding his hand into his pocket, he closed his fingers around the feather. It hummed in his hand, radiating a gentle warmth. He had to speak to Yoiko, to Ukyo. There was another dragon. A dragon that had healed him. How many more were there? Why had no-one ever told him?

*** * ***

The helicopter touched down heavily, its skids sliding slightly along the rough earth before finding purchase in a rocky patch, bringing the craft to a halt. Ukyo held up one hand to shield her face from the beating wind as Ranma urged her toward the chopper's door, which slid open as they drew near.

The barrels of two submachine guns met her as the door moved aside, but were quickly lowered as Ukyo shook her head. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the faces behind the guns - Scar and Baker stared back at her.

-What the hell are they doing here?- she asked. -They were supposed to send an empty chopper!-

-Apparently, they decided not to, My Lady.-

"Get in," Ranma growled into her ear. Ukyo complied, stepping into the chopper. Ranma followed, her sword never leaving Ukyo's neck. Scar and Baker moved to the rear of the chopper, making way for the two newcomers to sit at the front, behind the pilot.

Ranma slid the door shut with her free hand, before sliding it around Ukyo's waist to secure her.

"Lower the guns," she ordered, gesturing with her sword for emphasis. The two men complied, albeit reluctantly. "Now let's get this chopper in the air."

"Do it," Ukyo added as Scar looked to her. Scar nodded and spoke into the microphone inside his helmet, and the helicopter lifted into the air.

Ukyo looked back and forth amongst her four compatriots, wanting very much to speak to them, to ask them why the hell they had come for her in person, but she dared not with Ranma's sword at her throat. Instead, she could only stare at them in frustrated silence.

She glanced at Angel, whose wide eyes were overflowing with concern, asking if she was alright. Despite the intense nausea she had felt ever since Ranma touched her she gave a small nod, and tried to smile at the medic. It was all she could do; she hoped it was understood.

Scar and Baker carried the same determined look. Scar's fingers were twitching at his gun, and she shook her head. No, she mouthed. Don't even think about it.

Guns would do no good against Ranma. They all knew that. Ranma could bring the chopper down in a heartbeat if provoked, and none of the other members of Ukyo's team were blessed with her regenerative abilities. The only strategy was to wait, make it back to the Leviathan Spring. She could tell from the looks upon their faces that they knew that - she could also tell that they did not like it at all.

They were beginning to shiver, their breath turning to mist that hung upon the air. Ranma's presence was beginning to have its inevitable effect upon them. She looked away from them, preferring to look out through the window and watch the forest roll by.

The trees gave way to mountains; the mountains gave way to a bright blue sky. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside. Perhaps, she reasoned, she could pretend it was an ordinary flight, and forget about the sword at her throat and the yawning hole in her soul.

Despite her efforts, her thoughts returned to the moments before the helicopter's arrival, to the dark, cold dream that had possessed her so completely. She remembered little more than fuzzy images, strained recollections of a half-forgotten nightmare. The few memories she held were of strong, intense emotions.

Terror, helplessness, and despair mingled in her mind, the recollection as unsettling as the experience itself. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass windows of the helicopter, and found herself staring. Those eyes, those hollow, blue eyes, terrified her. She did not recognise these eyes upon her face. There was something within them that was not her own.

She shuddered and turned her eyes away, unable to look any more. Ranma's face was also reflected in the glass, glowing in the light of the midmorning sun. A cold, startling realisation washed over her - Ranma's eyes carried exactly the same expression as her own.

They were not the eyes of a killer. They were frightened, hollow, violated. Seeking understanding, searching for comfort, yet unable to find either. Ranma wanted to find both within Akane. Ukyo blinked hard, fighting back tears that threatened to spring up upon her face. She understood the loneliness in those eyes; she had seen it within her own.

She realised then that Ranma was no longer watching the others, but looking back at her. In that instant, she knew that Ranma was asking the exact same question as she.

What the hell did you do to me?

**T E N**


	18. Disclosure

* * *

**T E N**   
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**   
_"Disclosure"_

* * *

Ryoga hobbled across the hard metal floor of the Pillar's tertiary laboratory, acutely aware of how inaccurately he was reproducing the limping walk that had until a few minutes ago been second nature to him. His cheeks burned red as he slowly made his way toward his desk, hoping beyond hope that the prickling sensation running up and down his spine was fuelled by his own paranoia and not the curious stares of the other staff.

He wanted to toss aside the now-useless walking cane that had been his constant companion ever since his fateful encounter with Ranma. He wanted to break the damn thing over his knee and burn it. He wanted to jump up and down, to run to his desk, to do all of the things he was not able to do. But no, he was stuck pretending to limp. 

Pretending badly, he thought. Gods, I bet they're all staring at me.

After several moments of agonising nervousness, he sank into the safe haven that was his cubicle. Shielded from prying eyes, he sat at his desk and leaned his cane against it. Finally, he was able to stop worrying about pretending - for a while, at least.

After a quick glance around to ensure he wasn't being watched - something that was becoming a habit, a damning testament to the increasingly clandestine nature of his operations - he picked up his phone receiver and dialled Yoiko's extension.

"Hibiki," came his sister's voice.

"Yoiko, it's me," he replied, hoping that his voice was steadier than his pounding heart. Its insistent rhythm had not slowed at all since he had woke. He was entirely sure that the back of his lab coat was drenched in sweat, a conviction that only added to his nervousness.

"Ryoga?" she asked. "What's wrong? You sound freaked out. What did the Colonel have to say?"

"Come to my desk," he said, glancing around once more, and hung up. The paranoia that had dogged him all the way back from the Delta Seven-Five labs would not subside or relent. It certainly would not allow him to discuss matters over the phone.

Before the receiver was back in its cradle, his other hand was already dipping into his top drawer to retrieve the neural interface units he had hidden beneath a nondescript pile of paper. To the casual observer they appeared to be little more than earpieces, and their skin-tone colouration made them difficult to see from a distance. They were deceptively simple in appearance.

Seven in all, the units were small enough that all seven fit easily into the palm of his hand. Really, he only needed one unit. However, always the cautious individual, he had opted to create several, just in case. It was a habit he had developed long ago.

He tipped them all, save one, onto his desk. The remaining unit he placed into his left ear. There was a brief, itching sensation as the unit latched onto the edges of his ear canal, but he had come to expect that. A moment later, the irritating feeling that his ear was blocked disappeared and his hearing returned to normal as the unit's auditory compensators kicked in, emitting a single beep to signal that the transmitter was ready.

He would have preferred not to remove the unit at all, but - as inconspicuous as it was - the Colonel was a very observant man, and Ryoga was not one to take unnecessary risks.

-Ukyo?- he thought. The unit automatically latched onto the neural signal and established a communications lock with the remote receiver. -Ukyo? Can you hear me?-

*** * ***

Ukyo watched the ocean roll past, the sun's light a thick reflective band of yellow amidst the endless turquoise swell. Since they had left the island, the view outside had changed very little. Similarly, little had changed inside the chopper. She wanted to speak to her teammates, and yet she could not think of the words to say. Not a word had passed inside the helicopter for several minutes. 

-My Lady, I have completed my final diagnostics of the Frame components. The system is fully repaired, and the initialisation module is fully charged.-

-Good,- Ukyo replied, distracted by her thoughts.

-I would, however, recommend against activating the plating at this point. It would be tactically unwise to do so in such an unpredictable environment.-

-Agreed,- Ukyo replied. -I'll let you know when to activate it.-

-As you wish, My Lady.-

The Frame's reactivation was good news, of course. She could not stop herself from wondering, however, what use biokinetic plating would be against the kind of damage Ranma had inflicted. The Frame could protect her body, but it could not shield her mind. She chewed her lip, trying not to think too much about it. 

She could not afford to think only of herself - she was not the only one in danger. Soldiers, even the most highly trained, were still only human. No matter how rigorous their training, eventually a highly tense situation will begin to take its toll.

She looked away from the ocean to gaze on the faces of her compatriots. All were showing the strain, the mental and physical exhaustion. None of them had slept the previous night, she realised, which only made things worse. Their eyes still carried that grim determination and resolution but had taken on a softer edge, the hardness concealed beneath a veil of stress and sleep deprivation.

She gave them a tired smile, which was the best she could manage. That they trusted her enough to allow Ranma aboard the chopper, to rest their very lives in her hands, was an immense weight upon her shoulders. She did not require sleep as they did, but nevertheless she felt just as drained as they.

It pained her to dwell on such things, but that pain was infinitely preferable to the boiling disgust that churned within her stomach at the very thought of what Ranma had done to her. That horrifying cold, the humiliating submission, the terrifying numbness - all were stinging reminders of Ranma's attack, and yet all paled in comparison to the blow she had dealt herself.

She could not forget that part of her had surrendered. Part of her had given in, offered itself completely to Ranma. The very notion chilled her to the core, but she could not ignore it. That part of her lived on, still desiring to give itself to Ranma, to lay back and accept Ranma as her master. Keeping that tiny voice quiet was a constant struggle; its endless chanting was growing increasingly hard to ignore.

Give yourself to her. You want her. You belong to her.

No!, she thought, furious. She wrenched open her eyes, not even realising that she had closed them. Her hands were tightly clutching her knees, and her four teammates were staring at her. Sniffing, she realised that tears were running down her cheeks.

Biting back her tears she gave the others a reassuring nod, trying to convince them she was all right. It was pointless, she knew. The looks of uncertainty in their eyes were as plain as day. They were all in trouble, and they knew it. She cursed herself for allowing her mind to return to that dismal moment. It would help no-one for her to dwell upon it.

-Ukyo? Can you hear me?-

-Ryoga?- she asked, startled. A hot flash of embarrassment burned her cheeks. She continued, feeling very much as though she had been caught doing something she should not have been. -Is that you?-

-Yeah. I'm glad to hear your voice,- Ryoga replied. -I was worried about you. There's something I need to tell you.-

-It's good to hear from you too,- she replied. Truthfully, she felt an intense guilt that had burst open inside her like an over ripened fruit the moment she heard his voice. The thought that he was concerned about her while she was submitting to Ranma's lustful advances bit as deeply into her as any sword strike ever could.

-Where are you?-

-I'm ... in a chopper, coming back to the Spring.-

*** * ***

-What? How?- Ryoga asked, taken aback. -The search team found you?- 

Yoiko peeked into his cubicle, a half-formed question upon her lips. He held up his hand to silence his sister as Ukyo answered.

-Yeah, they did,- came the reply, hesitantly followed by, -and, uh, Ranma is aboard too.-

-She is?- Ryoga asked, the perplexed expression on his face drawing an inquisitive stare from his sister. He gestured to the communication units on his desk. Realisation illuminated Yoiko's face and she quickly placed one of the units inside her ear, seating herself on the other side of his desk. -Have you told the Colonel?-

-Yeah. I called him about twenty minutes ago. He said he'd prepare the launch bay for our arrival.-

-How did you restrain her?- Ryoga asked. -Did you get the Frame back online?

-Uh, she's not exactly restrained,- came Ukyo's response. There was a pregnant pause. -She's holding me hostage. She's got a sword to my neck as we speak.-

-WHAT?- Yoiko exclaimed through their shared communication channel, the sheer volume of her mental voice making Ryoga jump in surprise. He shot her a stern glare, hoping that Ukyo did not react similarly in her situation. 

-Yoiko?- Ukyo asked. -How did you---

-Never mind that,- Ryoga interrupted. -What do you mean, Ranma is holding you hostage? Why? Are you okay?-

-She hasn't hurt me. I'm fine,- Ukyo replied, with a distinct lack of conviction. -She's looking for a girl named Akane. I told her the girl was aboard the Spring. I figured leading her back to the Spring was the best way to contain her. I'll reactivate the Frame once we're there and take her down.-

-She wasn't supposed to arrive conscious, never mind armed!- Yoiko interjected, her interruption quickly stifled by a withering glare from her brother.

-Gods, she's coming for the other one,- Ryoga observed, his own thoughts unintentionally spilling into the communications channel.

-The other one?-

-That's what I was going to tell you. A girl named Akane Tendo was brought aboard a couple of hours ago.-

*** * ***

-You mean she's ... actually there?- Ukyo stammered, taken aback. She had used Akane's location as a bluff; to find out she was actually aboard the sub was a shock.

She quickly decided against a change of plans. To divert the chopper now would be dangerous. It would rouse Ranma's suspicion, and that was one thing she did not want to do. No; it was best to stick to the current plan. They would travel to the Spring and contain her there. Whether or not Akane was aboard was irrelevant.

-Yeah, and that's not all,- Ryoga continued. -She's a dragon, just like Ranma. I've been ordered to install Seraph Wing.-

A moment of stunned silence filled the communication band. 

-There's another dragon?- Yoiko asked, awestruck.

-Apparently so,- her brother replied. -I saw her with my own eyes. Gods, those eyes ....-

Somehow, the thought of another dragon did not fill her with dread, as she expected it to. The prospect was not that surprising. The more she mulled it over, the more it made sense to her. She had never assumed there was only one dragon. In fact, the more she thought about it ....

Tendo. Where have I heard that name before?

-Why the hell would they install Seraph Wing into a dragon?- Yoiko wondered, putting Ukyo's next question into words. -It's supposed to stop a dragon, not help one!-

-This is wrong. Something is very, very wrong,- Ukyo said, feeling the blood drain from her face. She swallowed, the movement of her muscles grazing her skin against the edge of Ranma's sword as an unsettling notion sprung to life in her mind. There were only two possibilities that explained why Seraph Wing would be implanted into a dragon.

-Either Phoenix doesn't intend to kill the dragons,- Ryoga conjectured, apparently having followed the same line of reasoning, -or Seraph Wing was created for some purpose other than self-defence.-

-Seraph Wing, what is your mission?- Ukyo asked after a moment's thought, projecting her voice to Ryoga and Yoiko as well.

-My Lady?- Seraph Wing replied, its voice echoing through Ukyo's mind to be rebroadcast toward the Hibikis.

-I want to know what your purpose is. What exactly were you designed to do?-

-To protect you, My Lady.-

-How, specifically?-

-I consist of a multitude of subsystems. The Core and Frame work in tandem to produce the biokinetic plating that protects you in combat. The Frame also provides resonant biofeedback to enhance your perception, accelerate your cognitive processing and reflexes, and multiply your strength. The field it projects is used to gather data for a variety of sensors, which I can interpret to provide tactical information and advice.-

-Anything else?-

-The Core, in addition to generating the impenetrable plating, has a neural interface that allows us to communicate, as well as providing access to your communications array. The array allows for easy radio communication. The Core also houses the self-repair subsystem, which is capable of repairing damaged components as well as complementing your own innate regenerative capability.-

-Is that it?-

-Yes, My Lady.-

-Are you sure?-

-Yes, My Lady.-

-That doesn't tell us anything we don't already know,- Ryoga said, sounding perplexed. -It doesn't tell us why they would want to equip a dragon with the Wing.-

-No, no, she has a point,- Yoiko interrupted. -I see what she's saying.-

-What?- Ryoga asked.

-Seraph Wing gave a complete list of its components,- Yoiko replied. -Except it wasn't complete. There's a secondary communication subsystem, the one we're using to communicate right now. Seraph Wing doesn't know it exists. If we can add components without Seraph Wing knowing about them ...-

-... then others could do the same,- Ryoga finished. -Gods, you're absolutely right.-

-But why?- Ukyo wondered.

-We've both been over the schematics a thousand times,- Yoiko said. -There's nothing in there that we don't know about.-

-It could be hidden. Embedded inside a processor, who knows. We have to assume that there is something else built into the Core that we don't know about. Hell, perhaps Seraph Wing knows and just isn't telling us.-

-Who would do that?- Ukyo asked. -And how? Surely you would notice if someone changed your design?-

-I didn't design the Core. I did a lot of the neural interface work, and designed a lot of the subsystems, but the Core itself isn't my work.-

-Who, then? Yoiko?-

-No way, I just wrote software. The Core was designed by Dr. Ichigawa at the main Tokyo lab.-

-Dr. Ichigawa?-

-He's the main researcher behind the Seraph Initiative. He's the one who came up with the idea for the Seraph Wing system in the first place,- Ryoga explained.

-If anyone would know what the Wing was designed for, it would be him,- Yoiko added. -Dr. Ichigawa is a genius. He's probably got the whole design memorised.-

-Dr. Ichigawa ... I think I've heard that name before,- Ukyo noted. -I wonder if he has---

Ukyo turned her head, distracted mid-sentence by a bright white light on the horizon. Narrowing her eyes, she peered more closely at it.

*** * ***

Deep within the bowels of the Leviathan Spring, in a small room at the end of a darkened corridor inside what was officially known as 'Storage Section Nine', a delicate medical procedure was underway. The apparatus for this procedure was deceptively simple; little more than a small bag of clear fluid being fed intravenously into the arm of Akane Tendo. 

To the casual observer - if there was ever such a thing in the Delta laboratory - it would be mistaken for a simple saline drip, or perhaps a sedative. However, the bag contained the culmination of tens of thousands of man-hours of research and development. It was no mere liquid; it was a concentrated mixture of specially engineered nutrients and stimulants designed for a single, very specific purpose. 

It was a carefully-measured dosage, computed to the finest precision to have a predictable effect in a predictable timespan. The exact composition and concentration of the mixture had been calculated and re-calculated over the course of almost ten years to the most accurate degree possible. Every step in its production had been meticulously supervised, with absolutely no expense spared. It was a revolution of modern technology, a triumph of design and engineering.

As the liquid oozed into Akane's veins, her heart began to beat faster and faster, circulating the mixture throughout her entire body. However, it was not her body that consumed the nutrients. Just as the analysts and researchers had anticipated, the symbiotic lifeform within her body - what the Hidari in their religious dogma referred to as Ryujin - hungrily devoured the supply.

A team of analysts carefully monitored the progress of the experiment from a secured facility in Tokyo. Just as they had predicted, Ryujin took what was given and consumed it, growing stronger and larger with every passing moment. And, as predicted, for a little over two hours the essence of Ryujin spread, joining with Akane in a manner utterly unique to the Dragonkin. Her body spasmed, straining against the thick straps that bound her to the bed.

Something happened then that the analysts did not predict. Ryujin's growth patterns began to accelerate, far exceeding their expectations. For the first few moments this was reason for optimism, but as the seconds ticked by, such optimism was quickly replaced with panic. The growth was exponential, far outstripping even the most reckless of estimates. Growth that was supposed to have taken months occurred in mere seconds.

Akane's struggles grew more violent. Her unconscious body, not yet completely adapted to the presence of Ryujin, instinctively fought the unnaturally-induced invasion.

They had terms for what was occurring - chain reaction, resonant cascade, equilibrium violation - but nothing else. They were the nightmare scenarios, the worst-case eventualities that spelt "utter disaster". Documented only for the sake of completeness, such scenarios were never supposed to actually -happen-. The probability was infinitesimal.

Akane's heart stopped. Her body fell, lifeless, to the bed.

In Tokyo, klaxons wailed. Automated emergency systems brought themselves online and hastily issued the abort command. One by one the failsafes clicked into place. However, it was much too late. The reaction had been set into motion. The event horizon had been crossed. There was no turning back. Panic turned to sheer disbelief - this could not be happening.

But happen it did. 

*** * ***

The JNV-1001 had originally been commissioned as a purely military vessel. It was, in its initial phase, designed as a superior interdiction vessel, armed with a heavy payload and tasked with defending the Home Islands. It was part of an entire armada of submarines, envisaged as a major part of Japan's self defence during times of instability. 

However, disarmament treaties were signed, peaceful accords were reached, and the Japanese government had no choice but to abandon its submarine weapon platform development program as a show of good faith. Behind closed doors, however, the construction of the JNV-1001 continued. A deal was brokered by the Phoenix Industrial corporation, a quiet purchase of one submarine that relieved the government of a small portion of the loss it had taken in half-developing the vessel, and granted the Phoenix a viable base to develop a truly useful mobile facility.

The vessel's design was radically altered; heavy weapons platforms were stripped bare and replaced with research and development facilities, staff and crew quarters, barracks and air base, with hydroponic facilities to support the population. The revamped vessel still carried a sizable array of armaments, but was also capable of airborne troop deployment, as well as housing an almost self-sufficient microsociety of researchers and technicians. At its completion, the vessel was finally given a name: the Leviathan Spring.

As part of the Phoenix design phase, the vessel's structure was altered to include a vast array of small, nondescript compartments. Ostensibly, according to the design specifications, these areas were power conduits, ventilation shafts, storage cabinets, and a variety of other miscellaneous structures. No-one was ever assigned cleaning duties in these areas; if anyone had ever investigated, they would have found them sealed and impenetrable. 

Housed inside each of the compartments were cryogenic tubes containing Hidari clones designed for rapid deployment throughout the sub in emergency situations. Their presence was a closely-guarded secret, only known by the Captain, Colonel Hunter, and a few select Delta Lab personnel. Most had been stored, undisturbed, for over two years. There were hundreds in all, a sleeping army to be called upon in times of need.

*** * ***

A vicious storm raged all around, violent winds turning and churning the air, carrying heavy raindrops in a miniature tornado all around. Thunder rumbled through the sky, hot lightning burning the air. The wind blustered, the rainfall intensified, the sky itself sank into deepest black. The howling cries of the wind grew, joined by the cacophonous percussion of a thousand watery bullets ripping into the ground below. The sound grew louder and louder, threatening to shake the world itself to pieces as it reached a fever pitch, and then--

Silence. 

The world around her was gone. The warm, white pool with its cloak of fog had been ripped away, leaving her suspended in an endless expanse of white nothingness. She began to fall, to tumble end over end through the emptiness. A gaping black chasm opened far below, its crooked edges yawning wide to swallow her whole.

She understood now, what it all meant. The knowledge had been unlocked in her mind, a fateful understanding of her own demise. She was falling from the realm of Earth, tumbling toward the Otherworld, the well of dead souls that existed alongside her world. 

Akane screamed.

It was coming for her. She was dying. She fought. Struggled. Tried to slow her fall. Something, anything to stop her descent into the abyss. Cold air screamed past her as she plummeted toward the chasm. Faster. Faster. She tried to breathe. Faster. Raging wind attacked her lungs. Faster. 

HELP ME!

A burst of light from below. Bright white light. She closed her eyes, blinded by the glare. The light caught her, surrounded her with its diffuse glow. Her descent slowed, the lashing wind subsided. She caught her breath and opened her eyes. Shadows and mist hung below. She glanced over her shoulder. The radiant white light burned above.

Akane.

She jolted at the voice. It surrounded her, filled her senses from all directions. She whirled in place, trying to locate the source but to no avail. 

Who are you, she called to the void. Her mouth did not move and yet the sound of her voice echoed through the nothingness. Why did you save me?

You should not ask what you already know.

Akane's eyes widened. You're ... Ryujin, aren't you?

No, my Akane, came the reply. -We- are Ryujin.

*** * ***

For just a moment there was an equilibrium, a harmonic moment of perfect peace. The two beings existed alongside each other. However, such perfection could not last.

Ryujin's explosive growth quite literally clove Akane's consciousness in two. Her mind, her heart, her very soul were taken, consumed by the unstoppable expansion. The spreading sphere of Ryujin's consciousness reached critical mass and detonated, wrenching the Dragonkin Ryujin back to life for the first time in almost a millennium.

The explosive end was inevitable. The aftershock of the detonation rang out through the realms, ripples of the Lady of Life's emergent consciousness resonating throughout the shockwave. 

Invisible and silent to most, the wave passed unnoticed to all but those most sensitive to it. To those few individuals, it appeared as an apocalyptic wave of fire that surged through the realms at blazing speed. It ripped effortlessly through sky, sun, earth and sea. Undeniable. Unstoppable.

*** * ***

Hammer and Anvil, walking the corridors of the Delta laboratory - the corridors of ground zero - were knocked off their feet by the force of the shockwave. Their bodies were slammed into the wall with force enough to buckle the metal.

The cataclysmic blast shot through the Leviathan Spring, ripping the Hidari out of their slumber. Confusion and panic reverberated through the shared strands of their collective consciousness, an echo that gained strength with each Hidari mind that awoke. 

Aboard the helicopter Ranma and Ukyo were thrown backwards into the seat behind them, slamming their eyes shut in unison to hold back the searing white light as it blasted through them, the helicopter, the sky around it and the ocean below.

Deep inside Storage Section Nine - only a short distance from Akane - was a cloning laboratory filled with an immature batch of the latest Hidari generation. They writhed within their tubes, minds that had not been completely developed struggling to understand what was happening. Their fear was primal, a base terror and panic that spread like wildfire through the Hidari consciousness.

As the young Hidari slammed their fists into the tubes containing them, the older Hidari, spurred on by the intense emotions emanating from their younger brethren, began to do the same. Driven by instinct, not intellect, they sought only one thing: to get out. To be free.

*** * ***

The brilliant flash burned into Ukyo's retinas, the thin flesh of her eyelids utterly unable to stop it. Even as she was blinded, her mind was filled with images, recalled memories that had lain dormant for centuries. A thousand snapshots from a millennia of life burst free to be remembered again, a tidal wave of sights, sounds and emotions that shot through her mind, a searing blast of revelation. 

In a frenzy she tried to hold onto them as they flashed past, but within a moment they were gone once more, leaving a only smouldering ember of recollection in their wake.

She reeled in shock, dazed and dizzied by the impact. Stars danced across her vision as the white light faded from her eyes. She gasped for breath, feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach.

-Gods,- she exclaimed, her mental voice heaving. -I remember ... now I remember ... Ryujin ....-

-My Lady?-

"Akane," came Ranma's voice, barely a whisper over Ukyo's shoulder. "Akane ...."

-We have to turn this chopper around right now!- Ukyo cried as realisation struck. -We can't bring them together!-

-You cannot, My Lady, Ranma will--

-Ryoga!- Ukyo called out, ignoring Seraph Wing. The AI was right, as always. If she turned the chopper around, Ranma would bring it down and kill everyone aboard. -Ryoga, can you hear me?-

-What is it, Ukyo?-

-You have to get the hell off the Spring! Now!-

-What?-

-Just do it! Don't ask any questions. Don't talk to anyone. Just get the hell off that sub right now!-

*** * ***

In the midst of the chaos, one mind dissented. A single, young Hidari clone - unlike his brothers - did not panic or struggle. He did not scream or screech or wail. He simply let out a long, slow sigh of relief. Unit 3659 of batch 248, thirty-seventh generation, third revision, opened his eyes and waited for his cryogenic tube to open.

*** * ***

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ryoga grunted as he yanked a shelf out of the cupboard under his desk. Papers went flying everywhere, scattering themselves across the floor. Scowling at the mess, he dug further into the pile of documents, tossing them to the floor in clumps. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Yoiko asked in a hushed whisper. She looked around, grimacing with each loud rustling sound her brother made. Several of the other researchers were looking in their direction, curious as to the noise.

"I keep a loaded gun in here for emergencies," Ryoga replied, head half-buried in the cupboard. A set of manilla folders came flying out to scatter their contents across his desk. Moments later, he emerged holding a small wooden box, a victorious expression on his face. "Aha! I knew I'd put it in here."

"Are you nuts?" Yoiko asked in a hushed whisper, utterly incredulous. "What do you think you're going to do, shoot your way out? We can't just -leave-! We're on a submarine, for crying out loud!"

"You heard her," Ryoga replied, unclasping the latch and opening the box. A nine-millimetre gun lay embedded in red felt, immaculately clean. He removed the gun from its resting place and tightened his grip upon it, admiring it.

"I heard a vague warning, but I don't see how that leads to this!" Yoiko exclaimed, gesturing to the weapon. "You've gotta be crazy. If you get caught with that, you're going to be in a world of trouble."

"You don't know Ukyo like I do. She sounded -scared-," Ryoga said, rising from his desk. He stood and shucked his lab coat. "We observed her for months before we brought her aboard. If there is one thing I learned from that surveillance, it's that when she gets scared, there is invariably a very good reason for it."

"Yeah, but--" Yoiko began. She stopped as Ryoga strode across his cubicle to hang his coat upon a hook mounted on the far wall. "Hey, what happened to your leg?"

"I'll tell you later," Ryoga replied, tucking his gun into the back of his trousers. He moved toward her and took her hand. "Come on. We're going to get out of here."

"Fine," Yoiko said with a sigh. "I think this is crazy, but I'll go. Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet."

*** * ***

Several day shift crew members were sitting in the Leviathan Spring's tertiary mess eating breakfast when a brisk chill washed into the room. Some ignored it and focused on their food, some commented about the sudden cold to their neighbours, others looked around for the source of the frigid draught. However, in the hustle and bustle it was quickly forgotten as the crew members settled back into their morning routine.

A small, ceiling mounted temperature sensor in the Leviathan Spring's tertiary mess registered an abnormally low temperature. Automated response systems activated several wall-mounted cameras and signaled an alert to the surveillance crew, warning them of the anomaly. The warning was noted, and quickly disregarded by the maintenance staff as unimportant.

Several moments later a quiet creaking noise came from one of the walls, but it was drowned out by the sounds of a typical breakfast. After a time the creaking stopped, only to be replaced by a dull, rhythmic thudding sound. This louder sound was noticed by a few of the crew in the vicinity, several of them turning to look at the wall, some nudging their neighbours and pointing. Hushed questions were passed back and forth along the tables.

It was three minutes to the second after the temperature drop that the first Hidari clone burst from its containment cavity, crashing effortlessly through the wall, twisting and tearing the steel itself. Free of its bonds, it turned to the mass of humans before it and smiled a feral smile.

*** * ***

Akane's eyes snapped open. The room was illuminated a faint blue, a vague circle of light on the ceiling projecting a soft glow down toward the floor. Beyond that gentle glimmer the room was unlit. Save for the occasional sound of dripping water and the rhythmic electrical hum of a lightbulb overhead shorting out, the room was silent.

She was alone, in a strange place, with no idea how she had arrived there. Part of her felt as though she should feel afraid, but all she could feel was a quiet, warm calm. Somehow, the situation was not as threatening as her mind told her it should be. Despite her mind's reservations she found herself smiling, a strong sense of happiness bubbling up from within her. 

She glanced around the room, blinking as the blue light followed her gaze. The ceiling, she saw, was covered in a thin sheen of water that was slowly dripping to the floor. The walls were similarly soaked. Slowly, she sat up. The sheets covering her fell away from her naked body, cool air sending a shiver down her spine as it touched her chest. 

A thin wisp of smoke rose and she glanced down to its source - her stomach. Where the sheets had fallen away, she could see a small kanji burned into her skin, just above her navel. The thin trail of smoke rose for only a few moments before dissipating into nothing.

"Ten," she whispered, reading the upside-down kanji. An image flashed through her mind; that same kanji tattooed upon Ranma's stomach, so very long ago. She swallowed, realising that had been no tattoo; it was a mark, a mark she now shared.

Ranma. She had to find Ranma, had to talk to her. Had to find out what was going on. Trying to move her arms, she quickly discovered they were strapped to the bed. A frown briefly crossed her face but was quickly pushed aside. She tugged gently at her bonds, but they would not give. Unable to move, she had no choice but to tug harder and harder, wriggling her arms back and forth to try and loosen the strap.

However, despite her struggles, she was only met with failure. The straps held firmly, refusing to release her. She looked around, searching for anything she could use to loosen the straps, but the only thing nearby was an empty intravenous drip that was connected to her arm.

"What's this?" she wondered aloud, staring at the needle stuck into her arm. Without thinking, she reached over with her right hand to remove the needle. Her arm met slight resistance from the strap, then pushed through. Only as her hand removed the needle did she realise what had just happened.

Her right wrist was translucent, and glowing a faint blue beneath her gaze. Her hand appeared normal, as did her elbow; small ripples passed along what was once her forearm for a moment, before her flesh resolidified. Stunned, she looked over at the strap that had until a moment ago held her arm securely. It was lying upon the mattress, still fastened, and drenched in water.

She stared at the strap for a long time.

*** * ***

"This is stupid," Yoiko groused. "I'm not sure what you're planning to do. I mean, at sea our options are pretty limited. There's only the air launch bay, and that's assuming we're actually surfaced right now. Even if we are, it's a hell of a swim to the shore."

"There has to be a way," Ryoga replied, sounding determined. He led her toward the main laboratory exit. Fortunately for them, there was no guard posted. That, at least, made their lives easier. He did wonder for a moment -why- there was no guard posted, but decided he had more important things to worry about.

"Well, there's always the submersible bay, but last I checked we weren't carrying a submersible. Let me check, though. Maybe I've got a scuba tank in my pocket."

"Look, I really don't need any sarcasm right now, okay?"

Yoiko rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be tugged along by her brother. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. One of the other researchers was heading toward them. "Hey, hey. Heads up, Ryoga."

"Ryoga!" called the man, waving toward them as he drew nearer.

"Oh, damn it," Ryoga hissed as he stopped, turning to look at the man. "It's Iwamura. We don't have time for this."

"Hey, Ryoga!" called Iwamura. "Can I have a word?"

"I'm a little busy right now, Heiichi," Ryoga replied, giving him a courteous smile. "Could it wait, please?"

"I was just hoping to go over some of these Seraph Wing diagnostics I've been studying," Iwamura replied, returning the smile and nodding to Yoiko as well. "I'm hoping to refine the biokinetic plating's harmonics. You know how it is, always room for improvement."

"Sure do," Ryoga replied with a forced laugh, playing along. "I'd love to, but we've got an ... important meeting to go to right now. How about later today?"

"You sure? It'll only take a minute," Iwamura said.

"Yeah, uh, this meeting is pretty urgent. You know how it is," Ryoga replied, hoping his increasing irritation was not showing. "Later today."

"Sure thing, if that's how it is," Iwamura replied, arching an eyebrow. Obviously, he was a little put out. "I'll drop by your desk this afternoon, if you're not too busy."

"See you then," Ryoga replied. He turned away and, with a sharp pull on Yoiko's hand, resumed his brisk walk towards the exit.

"Nicely done," Yoiko commented sourly. "Very smooth."

"Give me a break," Ryoga snapped. "I'm not very good with people."

"I noticed."

Ryoga scowled and Yoiko fell silent as she felt his grip on her hand tighten to an almost uncomfortable level. Best not to antagonise him too much, she decided.

"Hey, Ryoga!" called Iwamura. "What happened to your cane?"

Ryoga froze. In their rush, he had completely forgotten it; he had also forgotten that he was supposed to be feigning a limp. He turned awkwardly in place and gave Iwamura a dumbfounded stare, his efforts to formulate an excuse utterly unsuccessful.

"I, uh ..."

A loud crash filled the air, making all three of them jump. Ryoga looked past Iwamura, who turned to see what the noise was. A high-pitched scream rang out.

"What is THAT?" Iwamura asked. The scream was cut short, and a deathly silence filled the lab.

Ryoga reached for his gun, tugging Yoiko with his other hand. "Get behind me."

Suddenly, the wall near Iwamura detonated. Shards of metal flew everywhere, several striking him in the leg. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at his wounded limb. Blood spurted from his body, his howls of agony echoing through the cavernous laboratory.

"Heiichi!" Ryoga yelled. His eyes widened as a black shape darted out of the newly-created hole. It was a person. No, he realised, not just any person.

Ranma.

Ranma dived toward Iwamura, a flurry of fists and fanglike teeth. Iwamura's feeble attempts to resist were easily crushed. Ranma fell upon him and slashed wildly at his body, howling and biting like a wild animal.

Ryoga didn't have time to think. His body reacted. He shoved Yoiko back, away from the danger, raised his gun, pulled back the slide. He couldn't aim; no time. He squeezed the trigger. Bang. His arm shook with the recoil. He fired again. Bang. 

Ranma screamed in pain and toppled from Iwamura's body. It was too late for Heiichi. Ryoga could tell the moment he saw the blood-drenched body. No-one could survive that attack.

Ryoga exhaled.

How did Ranma get here, he asked himself as his brain finally caught up with the rest of his senses. It's not possible. She's on the chopper.

He stared at the bloody mess through the stream of smoke rising from the barrel of his gun. A dizzying realisation struck him - that was not Ranma. The person he had just shot, while identical to Ranma in almost every way, was male.

"What the hell ...." he whispered.

He took a step forward, keeping his gun firmly trained upon the fallen body. Another crash filled his ears. Another scream. He looked up and saw cubicle walls falling like dominoes, heard the panicked yells of his fellow researchers.

"Yoiko," he called over his shoulder, gingerly stepping backwards. "We have to get out of here."

Another Ranma burst through the hole by Iwamura. This one ignored his bloodied remains and turned instead toward Ryoga. 

Ryoga quickly turned his gun upon it and pulled the trigger. Bang. A splatter of blood burst from the Ranma's forehead. It screeched in agony and tumbled backwards, arms flailing all the way.

Ryoga spun on his heel and grabbed Yoiko's arm, pulling his dazed sister to her feet. 

"Run!"

*** * ***

Colonel Hunter closely examined the layout diagram of the launch bay, looking for any weak points in the perimeter he had set up. He cursed to himself, wishing for more time. Time, however, was one luxury he did not have - Ukyo had reported in several minutes ago, and according to that communication, the helicopter was already a couple of minutes overdue.

There were several loading gantries near the bay's ceiling, and all had been allocated snipers to cover the bay floor. The mezzanine observation deck had also been hastily fortified, and a loose ring of soldiers had been stationed around the perimeter of the bay floor. That, he hoped, would provide adequate cover.

The soldiers could not take down Ryukyu, he knew. They were a psychological tactic more than anything else. Ukyo was the only real hope any of them had. If she failed, he had no backup. It disturbed him greatly to not have a contingency plan in place, but he simply had no alternatives to fall back upon.

Once Ukyo took the dragon down - IF Ukyo took the dragon down - they could then transfer it to a secure holding facility. They had special containment rooms set aside for just such a purpose, sealed with the same kinetic shielding that was the basis of Seraph Wing's biokinetic plating. Even Ryukyu would not be able to escape from such a cell. Getting her there would be the problem.

The hiss and clunk of his office door closing was the first indication he had that he was not alone. His concentration broken, he frowned as he looked toward the door. Frustration quickly gave way to puzzlement as he saw just who had interrupted his ruminations. "What the hell are you two doing up here? The crew thinks you're missing on the helicopter!"

"Never mind that. Have a seat, Colonel," said Anvil.

"There's been a change of plan," added Hammer.

*** * ***

Ukyo watched the sleek black shape of the Leviathan Spring grow ever larger, her sense of trepidation likewise increasing. The flash had illuminated parts of her mind that had long been shrouded in darkness. She did not remember many specifics, but she remembered enough: to allow Ryukyu and Ryujin to reunite was to invite disaster.

"Once this chopper lands, we're getting off," she said, giving the other members of her team a hard stare. "This is between me and Ranma. I want the rest of you back in the air and the hell away from the Spring."

Scar opened his mouth to object, but Ukyo silenced him with a tiny shake of her head. This was not the time for a military hierarchy. Please. No arguments.

*** * ***

Akane stumbled as she lowered herself from the bed, her movements sloshing the ankle-deep water around. Leaning against a wall to steady herself, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths to try and clear the fog clouding her mind. It had taken a great deal of effort to stand, and it took an even greater effort to remain standing. Her body wanted to fall over and sleep. It was only through conscious effort on her part that it did not.

After several deep breaths, she convinced herself that she would not topple face-first to the floor. Slowly, she removed her hand from the wall and opened her eyes. Too late she realised her overconfidence. The dizziness returned with a vengeance - she stumbled forward into the darkness and fell heavily to her knees, warm water splashing all around. Planting one hand to steady herself, she managed to halt her fall. 

Her sudden proximity to the water revealed to her things that had until moments before been hidden by the room's pervasive darkness. Swallowing hard, she looked down at her own reflection. She was completely naked, her skin was as white and smooth as porcelain, and her hair was entirely blue. Her eyes glowed a radiant blue, appearing as if a liquid. Where once she had irises and pupils, now only the luminescent water remained. She peered into her own eyes, seeing within them an endless, limitless depth. She shivered, suddenly afraid. 

As if in response to the chill that touched her body, a thin sheen of water rose from the floor to embrace her, snaking up her legs, over her hips and torso. In a mere moment it had encased her arms and, before she even had time to panic, stopped its advance at her neck. As she watched, the water solidified into a flowing, silken white robe. It billowed around her, bringing with it a soothing warmth.

With the warmth came calm, stillness and peace. The haze of dizziness lifted from her. The fear slipped away. Slowly, Akane-Ryujin rose to her feet.

*** * ***

"The new Seraph Wing installation has been cancelled. As you can see, Colonel, we have more pressing matters to attend to. The Hidari are quite out of control - skirmishes are breaking out throughout the vessel. The entire submarine is in chaos." "My God," Hunter muttered, watching in horror as Anvil flicked between the video feeds of several surveillance cameras. 'Skirmish' was not the word; 'slaughter' seemed more accurate. Hidari were rampaging through the vessel, killing everything they came across. A few of the crew - mainly those on guard duty - managed to put up something of a fight with their sidearms, but that was little more than token resistance. "We have to do something!"

"A countermeasure is already being implemented, Colonel," Hammer replied. His grip tightened upon the Colonel's shoulder, holding him firmly in his thick leather chair. "We have a team of Ghosts standing by to resolve this situation."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ryujin has awoken much faster than expected. I'm sad to say this has caught us unprepared. However, it is not beyond control. Unfortunately, the awakening has had an unavoidable side-effect: the Hidari are reacting to Ryujin's sudden presence, as you can plainly see. Your crew are no match for them. However, our Ghosts will be able to clean up the mess."

"You call that a side-effect?!" Hunter blustered. "Those things are killing my men!"

"Yes, yes," Hammer said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The Hidari are very sensitive to the Great Balance. Ryujin's sudden growth spurt has thrown them into disarray. It is quite understandable that their behaviour has become erratic."

"'Erratic'?!" Hunter bellowed. He leapt out of his seat, but was quickly shoved back down by Hammer. "-You- brought that dragon aboard! -You- started this! You have to stop it!"

"It will be stopped in time," Hammer replied. "For now, though, it must continue. The Hidari are not the only ones affected by the disruption in the Balance. Ryukyu has felt it as well, and no doubt is heading this way as we speak. The Hidari will prove useful once he arrives."

"A helicopter has entered the launch bay," Anvil observed from his position near the monitor. 

"Ah! Quicker than I had expected," Hammer said with a nod of his head. "Ryukyu has come to find Ryujin. I had hoped to install Seraph Wing within Ryujin before he arrived, but with her growth spurt that will not be necessary."

"You're ... you're not going to stop Ranma?"

"What? Of course not," Hammer replied with a chuckle. "How would I do that? We cannot stop Ryukyu. We never could. All of the technology in the world will not help us against him."

"But ... Ukyo was ...."

"She is -nothing-," Hammer spat. "Ukyo never had a chance of stopping Ryukyu. She was a diversion, nothing more."

"You bastards! You used us!" Hunter cried, his body shaking in anger. "What are you going to do?"

The proto-Hidari smiled. "It's quite simple. We are going to let Ryujin destroy Ryukyu for us."

*** * ***

Ukyo watched in silence as the helicopter rose slowly upwards, the blustering wind of its rotors fading as it climbed into the sky beyond the launch bay doors. 

Go, she thought. Get the hell away from here. 

She did not need to look around to know there were a dozen snipers with rifles trained upon both her and Ranma. She could feel their anxious, sweating presence even without Seraph Wing's help. A tense silence filled the hangar, and she wondered for a moment why they had not begun firing.

"Akane," Ranma whispered. "Akane ...."

Ranma's grip upon her tightened, and she felt herself being forced forward. She took an awkward step; the guns of the soldiers moved with her, tracking the pair's every movement. They were waiting for the order to fire, she assumed.

-Shall I activate the Frame, My Lady?-

A loud creaking sound echoed through the hangar, coming from the far wall. Ukyo stared, and saw several of the soldiers turn to look at the wall. Her eyes widened.

-My Lady?-

-Wait. I can feel ... I can feel ... something coming....-

*** * ***

Akane-Ryujin watched in amazement as the mechanical door hissed open at her approach. Peering closely at the doorframe into which the thick metal door had vanished, Akane reached out with her hand to touch the smooth metallic surface. Ryujin's innate curiosity guided her movements, eyes and a mind that had not experienced the world in nine hundred years demanding an explanation for such mechanical magic.

The part of her that was still Akane smiled in bemused fascination, offering up a simple explanation behind the technology used to sense her presence and open the door. Such internal dialogue was second nature to her, despite her lack of experience. The moment Ryujin had awoken, she had realised her dual nature. Communicating with her other half was the obvious next step, and had followed on in a mere matter of seconds.

In the few minutes she had spent in the room with Ryujin, they had already developed a strong bond. She was a part of Ryujin as much as Ryujin was a part of her. It felt -good- to be joined to such a creature, despite Ryujin's many idiosyncrasies. She felt an overpowering sense of calm and happiness radiating from the creature she now shared her body with.

With Ryujin's curiosity regarding the door at last satisfied her hand returned to her side, to be once more enshrined within the silken white threads of her robe. She stepped through the doorway and into the corridor; her robe glided smoothly behind her, leaving a streaked trail of water across the floor.

The corridor was empty and featureless; long black walls and polished black floors that stretched off into the distance. Unmarked doors, like the one she had passed through, lined both walls of the corridor. Small metal pipes ran along the ceiling, bright fluorescent lights between them drowning the corridor in sterile white light.

She tried, as best she could, to explain the concept of artificial lighting to Ryujin, to stave off the impulsive curiosity that was washing through her mind. However, try as she might to provide answers, she could not keep up with the barrage of wordless questions. She laughed, out of what once might have been frustration but was now mild amusement.

The sound of running footsteps echoed down the corridor; apparently, someone had heard her laughter. The flow of emotion from Ryujin stopped in a heartbeat, draining away to leave cold, uninhibited reason behind. She could feel, somewhere deep inside, the presence of the individual - no, there was more than one - running toward her.

Abomination. Hidari, coming for her.

*** * ***

"You must understand, this is a very delicate situation," Hammer said, leaning on Hunter's desk as he watched the security camera display on the monitor. "Handling Ryukyu and Ryujin requires the utmost care."

"The symbiotes must be fully developed for them to become vulnerable. If they have not reached full maturity, they will simply move to a new host when the current host is killed," Anvil added.

"It has taken almost nine hundred years, but finally the process is nearing completion. Now that Ryujin has emerged, all that remains is for Ryukyu to awaken and then we can proceed."

"I ... don't understand," Hunter murmured, transfixed by the display on the monitor. 

"As I said, it is a delicate situation," Hammer explained. "Ryukyu and Ryujin are poised at opposite ends of the Great Balance. If one dies and the other does not, the Balance itself will crumble. They must both die together, or the Earth realm itself may be destroyed."

"Now that Ryujin has awoken, the Balance must be restored. Concordantly, Ryukyu will awaken - it is the Balance's way of healing itself," Anvil added.

"Once they both fully emerge, they will be both strong enough to kill each other and yet vulnerable enough to be killed. Each must kill the other. This is the only way to maintain the Balance after they are dead," Hammer continued.

"But ... but why involve us?" Hunter asked, watching the monitor with growing repulsion. "You could have done this without us. Why did you have to bring us into this?"

"Believe me, we'd really rather not have involved you," Hammer replied. "Unfortunately, humans have an annoying habit of becoming involved whether or not their presence is requested or required. This way, we could at least ensure you did not interfere with anything important."

"Interfered?!" Hunter fumed.

"Even now, your soldiers are preparing to fire upon Ryukyu. They will all die, but Ryukyu will not be stopped. Interference, Colonel."

*** * ***

The creaking stopped, and an uneasy moment passed. A few soldiers looked back and forth between themselves, wondering just what to make of the sudden silence. Ukyo swallowed hard. Mental alerts flared, Seraph Wing helpfully informing her of her skyrocketing heart rate. 

A gunshot rang out, her peripheral vision registering a muzzle flash high above the hangar floor. The world slowed, her perception accelerating as Seraph Wing's sensors locked on to the projectile and calculated its velocity and trajectory. The course of the bullet was plotted precisely in her mind, marked down to the nanometre as it hurtled toward her.

The AI warned her of the bullet's impending impact, its alert registering as little more than a panicked surge of adrenaline that rushed through her body. The bullet, she realised, was poorly aimed; it was going to hit her.

The impenetrable field of her biokinetic plating crackled into life around her. The bullet thudded uselessly against the field, flattening as it was repelled. An eclectic hiss filled the air as the plating expanded, its presence pushing Ranma backwards. Ukyo let out a deep breath, finally free of Ranma's frozen grip. Less than half a second had passed since the gunshot.

The flattened bullet clattered to the ground, the sound echoing into the distant corners of the hangar. She stared at the crumpled lump of metal for a moment, unsure of how to react. 

That decision was taken from her moments later when a hail of gunfire exploded across the hangar. Hundreds of trajectories scorched across her senses, a swarm of fiery trails ripping through the air behind her. Ukyo spun around to watch the bullets scream through toward Ranma. One by one they thudded into her, falling into her cloak like stones into a pond. Ripples spread across the fabric, concentric circles washing through. 

Ranma did not move. Ukyo's thoughts turned to the pistols strapped to her hips. No; they would do her no good here. 

A moment later the bullets burst from Ranma's back, one by one embedding themselves into the wall and floor behind her as their trajectories carried them to the inevitable end of their journey. 

Silence once more filled the hangar, a tense moment as the collected soldiers waited and hoped for their enemy to fall. But, she did not fall. She did not die. She could not die. Slowly, Ranma raised her sword as her cloak dripped from her body to pool on the floor at her feet.

"Akane ...."

*** * ***

"Amazing, isn't it?" Hammer pondered as the three watched the events unfolding on the monitor. Ranma stood motionless on the screen, unfazed by the volley of gunfire. "They don't have a chance. Not even ten thousand bullets will stop him. A true immortal, in all his terrible glory." 

"My God, what a monstrosity," Hunter murmured, his throat hoarse as he stared in startled horror. He had been coordinating the search for Ranma for over three years, and yet to actually bear witness to the awful truth of Ranma's nature - to see it with his own eyes - frightened him immensely. How could he have ever hoped to stop her?

"You don't know the half of it," Hammer replied, a distinct note of amusement in his voice. "Once Ryukyu awakens, then you will understand what his power truly is."

"Look," called Anvil. "The walls!"

"Ah, at last, it begins," Hammer said. "Watch very closely, Colonel."

*** * ***

It happened in just over eight seconds.

In the first second, dozens of storage compartments dotted around the circumference of the hangar were blasted open. Almost a hundred newly-awoken Hidari clones burst from their containment tubes and crashed through the walls, flooding the launch bay en masse.

The snipers perched upon the loading gantries did not have a chance. Many were skewered by shards of flying metal, and those that were not could not even blink before Hidari were upon them. 

It took another three seconds for their bodies to tip from the gantries and begin the fall to the launch bay floor, where a similar slaughter was already taking place. Mindless Hidari swept through the ranks, ripping the hapless soldiers to shreds. 

Two more seconds passed. One soldier with a particularly itchy trigger finger jumped in surprise at the intrusion and managed to unload a volley of gunfire into the frenzied crowd, killing three Hidari and two of his fellow soldiers before he too was taken by the mob.

By the seventh second, the majority of the soldiers were dead, leaving only a crowd of blood-drenched Hidari standing among the corpses. The falling bodies of several snipers impacted upon the metal floor, others falling upon the broken bodies of their comrades.

The eighth second passed, and Seraph Wing completed its tactical analysis of the situation. Eighty-nine unidentified assailants remained. All were unarmed; but nevertheless they had torn to pieces a contingent of forty heavily armed soldiers in eight seconds. Activating its emergency response mode, Seraph Wing flooded Ukyo's body with stimulants and adrenaline.

Ukyo, for her part, stared in slack-jawed amazement. Ranmas. Eighty-nine new Ranmas. -What ... the ... HELL are those things?- 

*** * ***

Akane tilted her head slightly, watching the two Hidari clones charge toward her. Their movements were slow, easy to track - or perhaps her own movements were swift; she could not tell. She could see more than their mere physical forms. Ryujin's eyes showed her the dark void burning within them, a gaping hole where their souls belonged. 

A shiver ran along her spine as the pair approached her at what must have seemed to them a breakneck speed. Their very presence was unnatural, a glaring, gaping vacuum in the world that she abhorred. Her lip curled, not in disgust, but in pity. She could feel the pain of these mindless creatures even as they dived toward her, fists and nails and snarling mouths, driven by an uncontrollable bloodlust - little more than wild animals.

Her arms raised. She struggled for only a moment before relenting and allowing Ryujin to guide her hands. The cloud of emotion that had descended over her mind was swept away, leaving behind a complete calm and clarity of vision. She would help these creatures to escape their bodies and return to the waters from whence they had been ripped.

The Hidari flew through the air toward her, drawing ever closer, and she held out open palms toward them. In the moment before they impacted, she smiled. A small cloud of feathers shimmering in purest white burst into existence behind her and began to drift toward the floor.

*** * ***

Ukyo grabbed the pistols holstered at her hips and drew them, pointing one at Ranma, the other at the mass of duplicates. The copies seemed to be ignoring her, as did Ranma; instead, their attentions were focused solely upon each other. Ranma stared firmly at the copies, and the copies stared back.

She squeezed the grips of her pistols, expecting the many Ranmas to turn on her at any moment. However, the only movement in the hangar was the dripping of blood and the jackhammer rhythm of her heart. 

-I recommend a tactical retreat, My Lady. You cannot win this fight.-

Thick beads of sweat trickled down her face as she stared at the scene before her. Moments ago, she was facing a single Ranma. Now she was facing ninety, and everyone else in the hangar was dead.

She took a step backwards and holstered her pistols. -I agree.-

*** * ***

"Akane."

Ranma looked longingly at the distant hangar door that separated her from Akane. Between her and the door lay dozens of Hidari clones; little more than a small obstacle for Garyoutensei. And yet, despite her confidence, a turbulent whirlwind of emotion raged inside her - anger fought with compassion, the need to protect Akane was pitted against her unending desire for revenge.

"... akane-akane-akane-akane-akane-akane-akane ..." she chanted to herself, closing her eyes as she tried to keep her focus. She could feel the anger welling inside her, the compulsion to spill the blood of her doppelgangers.

Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she tried to concentrate upon her goal. She knew that now, with Akane in danger, was no time to seek revenge or retribution. To surrender to such selfish desires was to condemn Akane to whatever torture the Phoenix had prepared for her. That was unacceptable. She would save Akane. She would save Akane. 

She ... would ... save ... Akane.

Something happened then that she did not expect. Garyoutensei, her faithful companion for nine hundred years, suddenly abandoned her. The sword's blade evaporated, evanescing in moments to leave behind a useless hilt. The hilt dropped from numb fingers and clattered helplessly to the ground.

Ranma stared at it for a moment, as did the Hidari. The moment passed, and the collected Hidari leapt for her as one.

*** * ***

"Your time has come, Ryukyu," Hammer said quietly, addressing the screen. "You don't need the tooth any more. Show yourself, don't be afraid."

*** * ***

Ranma snarled as her fist connected with the bloodied face of a Hidari; such was the force behind the punch that his neck snapped, sending a lifeless body tumbling backwards to the ground. Another Hidari grabbed her shoulder - that was the last action his hand would ever take, as Ranma's brutal punch to his armpit ripped the limb from its socket, destroying the nerve connections and leaving a limp, useless limb behind.

The clone did not have long to ponder his misfortune, as Ranma whirled in place and smashed her elbow into his nose, thrusting the bone upwards into his brain. He too slumped lifelessly to the floor, to join the growing pile of his brethren.

A flurry of punches and kicks screamed toward her but she flowed between them like water, deflecting many of the blows and absorbing the others. Each attack was met with a brutal counterattack, and in mere seconds the number of dead Hidari upon the floor tripled.

The anger grew inside Ranma, a fiery that would not, could not be quenched. These bastard creations were keeping her from Akane, and for that they would pay dearly.

The next attack was a punch directed at her face. She snatched the fist in midair and crushed it with her own hand, the crunching sound of shattering bones filling her ears. Her burning eyes stared into those of her attacker and she threw a sharp punch at his chest.

Her fist, however, did not impact against the clone's ribcage. Instead it passed through the flesh; the Hidari burst into flames, screaming obscenely as the messy clump of life energy that would in a human being be called a soul was penetrated by Ranma's hand. 

Ranma's eyes widened in surprise. As quickly as the flames had appeared, they vanished, sucked back into the body of the Hidari. The body of her opponent exploded, a flood of hot water splashing her and the surrounding Hidari. The attacks of her enemies stopped, as they joined her in staring at the watery remains.

Slowly, Ranma uncurled her drenched fist and stared at her palm. A small puddle of water remained in her hand, but it quickly soaked into her skin. There was no steam, no charred remains. She could feel its energy flowing into her hand, spreading along her arm. The Hidari was gone, but not destroyed.

*** * ***

"At last, Ryukyu sees his true purpose once more," Hammer commented, flashing Hunter a victorious smile. 

Hunter watched, aghast, as the collected Hidari resumed their attack. This time, however, it was different. They did not punch or kick, they simply threw themselves at her en masse. One by one, they were struck down as the first had been, each bursting like a water balloon at Ranma's touch.

"They're ... they're just killing themselves," he stammered. "Why? I don't understand!"

"Such is their purpose. Each one Ryukyu consumes will only make him stronger."

"My God," Hunter whispered, eyes widening in a sudden realisation. "That's what this is about. They're not fighting her. They're -feeding- her!"

*** * ***

Ranma thrust both fists into two Hidari, no longer closing her eyes as the burst of water washed over her. She could feel their life energy escaping their bodies to be snatched into her hands and taken. It was a glorious feeling, an empowering and invigorating flow of energy, a delicious feast to be consumed.

Her eyes burned bright red, coursing with the energy that filled and fuelled her. Her hair grew redder, redder and redder still until, at last, it burst into flame. Her cherry-red locks disappeared, consumed within a burning swath of fire atop her head.

"Akane," she called, feeling the undeniable strength growing inside her. They could not hope to stop her now. Nothing could hold her back. She would find Akane, and there was nothing they could do about it.

*** * ***

"It's ironic, really," observed Hammer. "He has resisted nine hundred years of pain and suffering, endured every torture imaginable, but in the end, all it took to unlock the power of death inside him was a single emotion. The mighty, unstoppable Ryukyu will be undone an emotion he does not even understand."

"An ... emotion?" Hunter asked, barely able to tear his eyes from the screen.

Hammer watched Ranma dispatch the last of the Hidari, a smile spreading across his face. Leaning over Hunter's desk, he brought his head close to the Colonel's ear and whispered:

"Love, Colonel. Love."

*** * ***

The water sloshed around her feet, stained pink by the blood of forty soldiers. She looked down and saw her own face illuminated by the crimson glow of her eyes, the burning threads of her hair. Her bloodstained teeth glimmered dangerously in the bright light of the hangar. 

She knew now she was unstoppable. Not even the gods themselves could keep her from her goal. Clenching her fists, Ranma-Ryukyu let out a howling, heaving scream.

"AKANE!"

**T E N**


	19. Ghosts

* * *

**T E N**   
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER NINETEEN**   
_"Ghosts"_

* * *

The Leviathan Spring was in chaos. The screams of alarm klaxons echoed uselessly through the hallways. Red alert signs flashed intermittently, casting crimson light down upon the broken bodies that littered the vessel. Humans and Hidari alike lay dead upon the floors.

The situation had deteriorated in a matter of minutes. Bloodthirsty packs of Hidari roamed freely, slaughtering the huddled, hidden pockets of humanity as they found them. There was still resistance, although its force was dwindling. The beat of gunfire punctuated the endless moaning of the clones, but it was rapidly diminishing.

Damaged equipment lay strewn around the various labs. A number of electrical fires burned in various parts of the sub. With the scattered remains of the crew utterly unable to fight them and a vast majority of the Spring's automated systems down they continued to burn, consuming precious oxygen, belching toxic smoke.

The crew were still fighting, but soon, they would all be dead.

*** * ***

The JNV-1001's original specifications included two small docking bays for small submersible craft. The bays, while not envisaged as overly useful to the Phoenix organisation, were considered potentially useful enough to retain during their modifications to the original design. Accordingly, the submarine was equipped with a complement of four small submersible vehicles.

However, the bays had never been used. The submersibles remained secured on their loading cranes, the docking facilities remained unmanned. The whole area was isolated - connected to the rest of the sub by only a single elevator - and beside the occasional security patrol, the entire docking area remained untouched.

As with any external access point, security was an issue. Physical isolation was not by itself sufficient. The docks were outfitted with a range of security sensors, from cameras - standard and infrared - to motion sensors, metal detectors, and a bevy of other security measures.

However, like many of the Leviathan Spring's core systems, the security subsystem had taken severe damage during the attack. Network lines and power conduits had been damaged or severed completely. Many of the sensors and cameras did not work - others simply spewed garbled data. 

A few, however, remained operational. One such device was a surveillance camera mounted above one of the two submersible docking bays.

A small, black vessel rose from the depths, silently parting the water's surface as it emerged into the dock. The camera's motion tracking software latched onto the movement and smoothly swiveled the camera, automatically adjusting its focus to pull the newly-arrived vessel into sharp relief.

Elsewhere in the Spring, an intrusion alert bleeped insistently upon a security console in the main security control centre.

A hiss filled the air as a small hatch slid smoothly open. Other, smaller sounds followed it. The rustling of clothing, the squeak of boots upon a moist metal floor. The camera dutifully recorded, sending multiple copies of the video feed to several redundant backup sites scattered throughout the vessel.

Suddenly, the camera's feed was cut off as a bullet smashed into the lens, piercing the casing and ripping through the delicate electronics inside.

The signal loss triggered another alarm in the security control centre. The security monitor hissed with static. Unfortunately, the security officer who lay slumped over the console in a pool of his own blood could not respond to the alarm. The Hidari who stood behind him with a blood-soaked smile upon its face did not notice it, and would not have understood its meaning even if it had.

With the camera removed, six invisible soldiers melted into view around the perimeter of the bay. The barely-audible hum of their active camouflage suits quickly died away as they powered down.

"Bay one secure. Team one is in position," said one of the soldiers, holding one hand to his ear. "Ghosts commencing infiltration."

*** * ***

Ryoga, back pressed tightly against a chilled metal wall, leaned to one side and peered around the corner. A long, narrow hall lay before him. If he remembered the layout of the sub correctly, this passageway ran virtually all the way to the helicopter launch bay. 

Thick metal pipes ran along the ceiling. One was ruptured, belching steam into the corridor and obscuring his view. From what he could see, however, the corridor seemed to be empty. If they were quiet, and careful, they might just make it to the bay unseen.

That was the best plan he could think of, at any rate. 

He turned back to his sister, noticing for the first time the solid death-grip she had upon his hand. Her skin was pale, and she was shaking like a leaf. 

"Hey, Yoiko."

She ignored him, instead staring silently at the floor nearby. Ryoga looked past her to see what she was looking at. When he realised what it was, he quickly wished he hadn't.

A female guard lay nearby, covered in blood. Two dull eyes stared ahead, sealed forever in an expression of horror. The poor girl's throat had been torn out. Her uniform covered most of her other injuries, but judging by the sheer quantity of blood, they must have been extensive.

Gods, she doesn't look that much older than Yoiko, he thought, filled with disgust. Memories of his own murdered teammates threatened to emerge from the darker recesses of his mind. He closed his eyes and looked away. No. This isn't the time to be thinking of them.

"That ... that's Haruka," Yoiko whispered, her voice breaking. "We used to play cards when our shifts lined up. She'd just started dating one of the guys in Engineering. She ... she wouldn't tell me his name ...."

"Yoiko, listen to me," Ryoga said, but his words had no effect. He shook her by the shoulder. "Yoiko!"

"W-what?" she asked, finally turning her moistened eyes toward him.

"I need you to stay focused. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try," she replied, nodding weakly.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be fine," he said, offering an encouraging smile. "If we get to the launch bay, we might be able to get a chopper out of here."

"But you don't know how to fly a chopper," Yoiko pointed out.

Ryoga's smile cracked. His sister, ever the pragmatist. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

He glanced once more at the body of Haruka. She had a pistol holstered at her hip. Releasing his sister's hand, he stepped over to her body. Lowering himself almost to the floor - careful not to touch his knee to the puddle of blood that surrounded the body - he reached toward the weapon.

"What are you doing?!" Yoiko squeaked, her voice filled with disgust. "Don't do that!"

"I have to, sis," Ryoga replied. Distasteful as it was, another gun could mean the difference between life and death for both of them. As he looked more closely at the weapon, he shook his head in dismay. The holster was not even unclipped - the poor girl had never even had a chance to defend herself. He glanced at her face once more. She had been a pretty girl, that much was obvious even beneath the blood that had dried upon her skin. 

What a waste.

"Forgive me, Haruka," he whispered as he unclipped her holster and withdrew the weapon. He checked a small pouch on her belt and found a full magazine inside. After pocketing the magazine, he reached for her face and gently pulled down her eyelids. "But I need these to protect my sister."

He stood and turned away, quickly ejecting the magazine from her gun to inspect it - partially to check how many rounds were contained within, partially to avoid meeting his sister's horrified gaze. The magazine, thankfully, was full. With a full magazine in his pocket and nine rounds remaining in his own gun, he made a mental note: thirty-three rounds remaining.

He slid the magazine back into the gun. It had been a long time since he served in Bravo Team, but his instincts remained sharp, and they told him that exactly how much ammunition he had was one of the most important pieces of information available to him.

Pocketing Haruka's pistol, he once again reached for his sister's hand and tugged her toward the main corridor. 

"Come on. Let's go."

*** * ***

"So," said Ukyo. "You're Ranma's new apprentice."

There was a vicious storm raging that night. Lightning flashed in the heavens, illuminating the rooftop - and the two figures standing upon it - in stark white light. The thunderous rumble shook the building, sending tiles tumbling over the edge of the roof to the mud far below.

The girl, short and youthful in appearance, turned to face Ukyo. The lightning faded away, although not before a glimmer of reflected light from the sword in the girl's hand caught Ukyo's eye. Despite the sword, and the black hooded robe the girl wore, it was obvious that she was little more than a teenager.

"I'm nobody's -apprentice-," countered the girl. "I'm the Black Tiger of Tokyo, and you're interfering with my evening's business."

"I already know who you are," Ukyo replied, lowering her own blade and adopting a neutral stance. "Nabiki Tendo."

"Hmm, is that so?" Nabiki replied, unfazed. She snorted, a vague sound of amusement, and pulled down her hood to reveal her face. A sardonic smile played across her lips. "Intriguing. You've done your research. However, I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know who you are."

"Kuonji. Ukyo Kuonji."

"Ukyo Kuonji. You put up quite a chase. I'm impressed you managed to keep up with me," Nabiki said, emphasising the name. She smiled, redirecting the rivulets of rain running down her face, and bowed slightly. "There are few who can. Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Tell me where Ranma is."

"What makes you think I know or care where Ranma is?" Nabiki asked flatly. "I'm just here for the Eye. Ranma has nothing to do with it."

"I've been watching you. Since you met, you have been inseparable. And now, suddenly, she is gone. I have no argument with you, Nabiki. I just want to know where she is."

"Don't you have anything better to do with your time?" Nabiki responded, her voice dripping disdain. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have time to deal with the likes of you. That jewel isn't going to steal itself. If you want to find Ranma, you're going to have to do it yourself."

"If you tell me what I want to know, I'll let you go," Ukyo said, raising her sword once more. "I don't want to hurt you, and I don't care about whatever it is you're trying to steal, but I won't let you hide Ranma from me."

"Let me go?" Nabiki huffed, incredulous. "You'd have to catch me first. And if the all the locks in Tokyo and the Emperor's finest can't, I honestly don't think you have much of a chance. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ukyo Kuonji, but don't expect it to happen again."

There was a glimmer of movement, a swath of brown hair, a streak of blue. Lightning burst across the sky once more; then the white light was gone and so was the thief, leaving only blackness and the relentless pitter-patter of raindrops. Ukyo stood alone in the rain, her pupils expanding as the darkness closed in to swallow Nabiki whole. 

The guards would certainly have heard them and would soon come running. No doubt, a figure standing on the roof in the middle of the night would be met with many arrows and few questions. Frustrated and drenched from head to toe, she sheathed her sword and turned away.

"Damn it."

Aboard the Leviathan Spring, Ukyo shook her head violently back and forth, dislodging the half-formed memory from her mind. They were coming more frequently now, each more vivid than the last. Some were little more than still images, or whispered words. But some were sharp, clear, filled with sounds, smells and sensations. 

Ukyo could almost see the lithe cat-burglar's face, almost remember her voice. She could -feel- the cold raindrops running down her face, the electric charge of the stormy air. The memories felt so real, and yet so alien to her. They were old memories; very old. Whose were they? Her own? Why didn't she recognise them?

The memories had begun to return to her with Ranma's touch. Those icy hands upon her skin had awoken something within her. She did not know what it was, nor did she understand the memories she was reliving. All she knew was that something was moving inside her mind, churning up long-dormant memories in its wake. 

Corridor after corridor of the Leviathan Spring passed underfoot as she sprinted through the vessel, dodging twisted water pipes, shattered bulkheads and broken bodies without conscious thought. A rhythmic thumping filled her ears - whether the sound of her boots upon the floor or the thrum of her own heart, she did not know.

Some of the memories were familiar to her. Others were not. All of them, however, shared a single common element. That element, she knew, was the key. Somehow, it was the key.

-...My Lady?-

-What is it, Seraph Wing?-

-I have been trying to contact you for two minutes, thirty-six seconds. Why did you not respond?-

-I ... I didn't hear you,- Ukyo replied, her mental voice laden with worry as she realised that was the truth.

-My Lady? We share a neural link, it is not possible for---

-It doesn't matter,- she interrupted dismissively. -What did you want?-

-Two things. Firstly, I wished to present my tactical report. Secondly, I wished to enquire as to your destination. I assume from your location that you are heading to your quarters, but I do not understand why.-

The shrill sounds of alarms rang in her ears, threatening to drown out her own thoughts. She looked around, suddenly realising that she had stopped running. Just as Seraph Wing had said, she was outside the barracks.

-I want to get my sword,- she replied, glancing around before heading inside. 

-Your sword? May I ask why, My Lady?-

-I ... don't know why, but it's important for me to get it,- she replied. The entire barracks area was drenched in blood, silent bodies scattered across the floor, illuminated only by the crimson glow of emergency lighting. -Gods, this place is a war zone. What the hell is going on?-

-That brings me to my tactical report. Electronic systems are being disrupted throughout the vessel. I am unable to access the core network, nor establish any meaningful communications links. I have no information about the life forms you encountered in the launch bay, other than the obvious: they are not human, and they are hostile.-

-I figured that much. Those things moved like ... like animals. Can you locate anyone else?- she asked, pushing open the door to her own quarters. She entered, relieved to find the room free of dead soldiers. -How about Ryoga, or Yoiko?-

-The composition of the walls severely limits my scanning range, My Lady. I am able to link into a few security systems throughout the vessel, but the majority of them are offline. Even taking these sensors and cameras into account, there are no active human life signs in my sensorium. However, Ranma has a much stronger signature. I am able to track her general location. She has left the helicopter bay.-

-She's heading for Akane,- Ukyo observed, kneeling at her footlocker. She opened it and fumbled inside. -I've gotta stop her. I can't let them meet again.-

-I must remind you that this vessel has already sustained significant structural damage, the Frame is not entirely stable, and the entire vessel is populated by hostile life forms. Under these circumstances, I would recommend that you evacuate immediately.-

-No. I'm not just going to run away from this!- she said. Her fingers found Seriatim's scabbard and closed around it. She pulled the weapon free and stood, letting the footlocker fall closed. -I brought Ranma aboard, and I'm going to finish her.-

-My Lady, this is an unacceptable risk. You must evacuate the vessel.-

-And just ... abandon everyone else? There must be some survivors on this sub, and someone has to help them,- she replied angrily. And Ryoga has to be aboard somewhere, she added to herself.

-You must understand, My Lady. There are dozens of enemies on every conceivable path between yourself and Ranma. The Frame's biokinetic plating is barely functioning. The system is not stable. I would recommend, given the damage to the facilities aboard the Leviathan Spring, returning to the primary Seraph Initiative facility in Tokyo for a full system-wide repair. Pursuing Ranma at this point is, to be blunt, foolhardy.-

-Maybe you're right,- she replied, sliding the sword's scabbard in between her belt and her hip. She drew her pistols from holsters at her hips and turned toward the door. -But you're not changing my mind. I'm going to stop Ranma from killing everyone aboard this sub. You're going to help me.-

-My duty is to protect you, My Lady. The welfare of others is of secondary importance to your own survival.-

-No, it isn't,- Ukyo replied. -Not any more, Seraph Wing.-

*** * ***

The main corridor of the Delta Seven-Five laboratory linked the primary research facilities to the main elevator, which in turn provided access to the nonrestricted areas of the sub. Unlike most of the Seven-Five lab areas, the elevator lobby had been equipped with hidden Hidari cryotubes.

The entire lobby area was a wreck. Ragged scars covered the walls, shredded metal hanging from enormous gashes. The floor was awash with blood, the mangled pipes that once ran along the ceiling spewed forth steam and sparks.

The entire hall was filled with broken, silent bodies. Laboratory workers, researchers, and soldiers alike were strewn around the room. Akane-Ryujin stood silent, stilled, awed by the carnage.

"My Gods," Akane whispered as she collapsed to her knees in the midst of the dead, unable to command the strength needed to stand. The cold void of death surrounded her, the void clawing painfully at her mind, its presence boring relentlessly into her skull.

She clasped her hands to her temples and gritted her teeth, trying helplessly to drive away the intense anguish that was churning inside her. The aching emptiness of the dead refused to be ignored. The bodies were cold, silent and still, and yet they called to her mind, their wails of agony an overwhelming din.

A woman's face, lifeless and half-submerged in blood, caught her eye. She stared at it in horror, a chilling feeling of recognition sinking into her stomach.

"I know you," she whispered, gingerly reaching out toward the face. "Your name was Mary."

Mary. Twenty-four years old, a junior research assistant. Her birthday had passed only three weeks before. She had been given a pair of earrings by her fiance; opal stones set in gold that glimmered so beautifully in the moonlight. He had smiled in that way she loved so much, the small, spontaneous and slightly-crooked smile that he could never quite manage to perform on request. They kissed, the sweet hint of whiskey on his breath. She'd been drinking champagne and the world spun as he dipped her, but he held her tight.

Her jugular vein had been severed by a flying shard of metal in the initial Hidari attack. Blood had sprayed wildly from her body, taking heat, sensation, consciousness and pain with it. Mary had not suffered for very long.

Akane's fingertips hovered near Mary's blood-stained cheek, almost but not quite touching. She let out a long, slow, shaky breath and drew her hand back, cradling it to her own chest. 

She had never met this girl. And yet ... she knew her.

The man laying atop Mary was named Yasuhito. Fifty-two years old. He loved life at sea; the achingly beautiful sunsets that danced over the sea, the salty taste of the ocean air, the endless, soothing rocking of the water's surface. He could have spent an eternity on the ocean, if not for the photo of his two-year-old granddaughter that he kept on his desk. It had been a present from his son, complete with an ornate wooden frame. He wanted to go home, to spend time with her, to be a grandfather.

He had, unfortunately, not died as quickly as Mary. The same shard of metal that had ended Mary's life had glanced off her neck and embedded itself into his chest, piercing his lung. With medical attention, he might have survived. But no help had come.

Akane recoiled in horror, throwing herself backwards, scrambling with both hands and feet across a blood soaked floor, anything to escape the macabre sight before her.

The palm of her hand glanced across the dead fingers of a soldier as she scrabbled across the floor. The contact jolted her. A torrent of images burst violently into her mind, a flood of memories that swept uncontrollably across her consciousness.

She could see his infant son cradled in his arms, feel the warm breath of his wife on his cheek as they made love, hear the laughter of his best friend and the gentle, soothing words of his mother as they were whispered into his tiny ear. A lifetime of memories offered up to her without reservation, a lifetime of emotion experienced in an instant.

She screamed and jolted as if electrocuted, her body's survival instincts forcing her muscles to wrench it away. She flew through the air and landed face-first in a puddle of blood in the middle of the hall, thankfully away from the corpses.

"Why do I feel their pain," she whimpered to herself, lifting herself upon her elbows, gulping down air as her face surfaced from the blood. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clasped her hands to her head, her body shaking with sobs. "It hurts ... it hurts!"

Their memories are their lives. We are bound to their lives, and thus we are bound to their memories, replied the voice inside her mind that was Ryujin.

"I don't want to watch them die!" Akane cried, clutching her temples. Her words echoed through the hallway but she did not hear her own voice, drowned out as it was by the imagined cries of the dead. "Make it stop. Please make it stop."

Akane felt herself rising to her feet. Her legs moved, her vision swayed. She felt the rhythm of the floor hitting the soles of her feet, saw the corridor moving past in the opposite direction. Her body moved of its own accord, hopping over the bodies. She was, somehow, running toward the elevator door. 

We only witness the beginning of death. It is painful but it is brief. The duty of overseeing their eternal suffering falls upon another. Take comfort in that.

The thick steel door loomed ahead, like everything else in the room - silent and motionless. Her breath caught in her throat. The door was not going to open. Panic rose within her, her throat tightening as her arms flailed uselessly. She could not stop her run, nor even slow it. A scream escaped her throat as she held up her hands in a desperate, futile attempt to brace for the impact.

The impact did not come. Her eyes widened as her arms transformed, flesh becoming liquid. Where once she had skin, only translucent water remained. She did not even have time to gasp before she plowed into the immovable metal. Her body burst out from the other side of the door, phasing effortlessly through it. Free of the obstacle, her body resolidified, just in time to crash into the elevator's handrail. She staggered back from the impact and collapsed backwards onto the elevator platform.

She gasped for breath, winded, her stomach complaining at the movement. Her body ached, and her head was swimming - but at least the voices had stopped. There was silence in her ears now, blessed, sweet silence. 

What just happened, she thought to herself. How did I ...?

She coughed and rolled over, clutching her stomach. Something caught her eye then; something that made her sit bolt upright despite the pain. A Hidari clone sat in the corner of the elevator platform facing her, both hands clutching at the handrail behind it. It stared at her with wide eyes, glancing between her and the elevator door. Its body trembled as it opened its mouth.

"Please don't kill me."

*** * ***

Ukyo came to a stop beside a pile of three dead Hidari laying haphazardly atop one another. A multitude of bullet wounds marked their backs, although blood had long since stopped flowing. From the way they were positioned, she surmised they had not been moved since they had been shot. She glanced in both directions along the corridor, trying to see if the shooter's remains were nearby, but there were no other bodies in the vicinity.

-Whoever did this made a clean getaway,- she thought to herself. She shook her head, recalling the many mutilated soldiers she had seen. -Lucky bastards. I wonder if they're still alive.-

-My Lady, there is something disturbing here.-

-What is it?-

-My analysis of the bullet wounds suggests these creatures were killed by .45 ACP rounds. That calibre is not standard-issue among the Leviathan Spring's personnel.-

-What are you saying? That an outside group did this?-

-Unless some of the crew are armed with non-standard munitions, it is a distinct possibility, My Lady.-

-Well, if it was, I guess they did me a favour,- Ukyo replied, scratching her chin. She nudged one of the bodies with the edge of one of her combat boots, rolling it over onto its back. Ranma's face, vacant and pallid, stared up at her. She grimaced and lowered herself to one knee alongside the corpse.

-It's strange,- she thought as she used the barrel of one of her pistols to turn the creature's head. -What is this thing?-

-My Lady?-

-I see Ranma's face, but ... I don't feel anything,- she replied. -I should feel angry, I should feel hatred, I should feel -something-, but I don't feel a thing. Shouldn't I feel something?-

-I do not understand, My Lady.-

-I want to feel something. If I can't, what does that mean?- Ukyo wondered. She leaned closer and looked into the creature's empty eyes. -Does that mean this creature isn't Ranma? Or does it mean I'm no longer who I once was?-

-You are Ukyo Kuonji, My Lady---

-I know that. But what does that mean? Ever since she touched me, I ... I've felt different. Strange. I don't understand what it is. I feel like I don't understand anything anymore. Why am I doing this? I used to know, but ...-

-Have you forgotten my purpose, My Lady? You are to destroy Ranma.-

-I ... I know,- she said. -I will kill her for what she's done to the soldiers, to the Spring. I'll stop her from hurting Ryoga. I just wish ... I wish I could remember why ....-

She sighed and rose to her feet. -It doesn't matter.-

-My Lady, I have an important situational update.-

-What is it?- she asked, looking away from the corpse.

-The Leviathan Spring's situation is dire. Sensors are reporting fires in the secondary and tertiary Pillar laboratories. Halon systems are operational in the tertiary lab, but the extinguishers in the secondary lab are malfunctioning. The fire is spreading. The air filtration systems are offline, as are many of the automated doors and elevators. Power supplies are fluctuating throughout the vessel. Eighty-six percent of onboard security surveillance systems are inoperative.-

-How the hell did all that damage happen so quickly?- she wondered. -Have you located any survivors?-

-Not yet, My Lady. There are very few cameras still operational, which severely restricts my observational capabilities. However, I did manage to establish a link with a surveillance camera near the primary Pillar laboratory. I believe the footage I received is of tactical importance.-

-How so?-

-Stand by, My Lady. I will show you.-

Dizziness swept over her, forcing her to lean against a wall for balance as Seraph Wing co-opted her senses. Her perception of the world around her disappeared, leaving her a disembodied observer in a black void. Static filled her eyes and ears, before resolving itself into the slightly grainy, low-quality images and sounds recorded by the camera.

Her mind reeled, trying to cope with the sudden change. It was a surreal experience to view a hallway from such a bizarre angle. She felt a vague sense of dizziness, her eyes struggling to adapt to a much narrower field of view than they were accustomed to. The hallway itself was empty. Save for the flickering of one of the fluorescent light tubes that illuminated the corridor, she could easily have believed that she was looking at a still photograph.

Tiny wisps of black smoke crept onto the edge of the picture. Had the rest of the picture not been so perfectly still, she might not even have noticed them. Thin, dark tendrils grew thicker and longer, stretching out across the floor of the corridor. They joined together, swirling into a single black mass.

-What is that?- she asked. Seraph Wing did not respond. A moment later, she was given her answer.

The picture before her eyes began to flicker and distort as the smoke spread across the floor; it did not rise and expand like a gas but instead stuck to the floor like a thick, viscous fluid. A figure stepped into the frame, wreathed in the blackness. The shadows obscured its features completely, save for its two malevolently burning eyes.

Two arms protruded from the smoke, arms that appeared human but ended in curled, burning claws that belched forth more of the thick smoke. Long, fiery strands burned atop its head in the place of hair, streaming down its back to the floor. 

The glowing orbs of its eyes turned slowly to stare directly at the camera; directly at Ukyo. The picture before her eyes began to flicker and distort as the camera itself began to melt from the sheer heat of the creature's presence. The picture flickered violently for just a moment and then - nothing but static. Ukyo jumped back as the video was snatched away from her eyes, leaving her own vision once more in its place.

-My Gods, Ranma, what have you become?-

-I feel this is an appropriate moment to remind you of my recommendation to retreat for repairs, My Lady.-

-Noted,- she replied, gritting her teeth. -Now tell me where that camera was.-

*** * ***

Akane-Ryujin pulled herself to her knees, the stinging pain in her ribs forgotten. The Hidari watching her tensed as she moved, pulling itself further back in response. It stared at her with wide, watering eyes, wincing each time she moved even a single muscle.

"Are you a ghost?" it asked in a tiny voice that echoed upwards into the darkened elevator shaft. "Are you going to kill me?"

She sat back on her legs, bewildered by this timid creature. This was the first Hidari she had ever seen that had not shown any malice or anger. This clone, unlike the others, did not leap for her with its teeth bared like a wild beast. Instead it cowered in a corner as if she were the animal.

"Kill you?" she replied, unable to hide her surprise. Why was it not attacking her?

The Hidari nodded. "The others want to kill me. I escaped, and they want to kill me. I just want to get out."

"Others?" she asked. "What others?"

"The others ... like me. The other tube-children."

"Is that what you call yourself?" 

"They have a word, but I don't know it," the Hidari replied. It shuffled a little further away from her, pressing itself back against the handrail. The movement jarred its left shoulder and it winced, clutching its right hand over its upper arm. 

"You're hurt," Akane observed, watching its hand tighten upon its arm. Her instincts cried out for her to tend to the wound of a living creature - and yet this was a Hidari, an empty shell of a creature with no heart, no soul. Even so, she could feel life flowing within it; she wanted to help it.

Why do I feel this way, she wondered. It wasn't like this with the others.

"One of the others cut me," the clone replied. "I ... I tried to fight, but Six-Three was too strong. I thought he was going to kill me, but then ... then I was falling, and the next thing I can remember is being here. I just wanted to get out of the tube, but ...."

"Let me help you. I won't hurt you," Akane said in a soothing voice. She stood and walked toward the clone, who watched her warily, but tolerated the movement. Kneeling down before it, she looked over at its arm. "Move your hand, please."

The Hidari looked her up and down with its wide blue eyes, chewing its lower lip for a moment before complying with her instruction. 

"This doesn't look too serious," she observed, wary of its jumpiness and careful not to touch the clone lest she frighten it too much. "I can help you, if you'll let me."

"O-okay," it replied after a time. As it closed its eyes, it implored, "Please don't hurt me."

Reaching out, she placed her hand above the clone's bare upper arm. The Hidari twitched, but nothing more. The wound was small - less than a hand's width across - but it had bled a lot. Placing her palm over the wound, but not quite touching, she willed Ryujin to mend the damaged flesh.

A gentle warmth grew inside the palm of her hand and spread outwards, penetrating the clone's skin. She could feel the wound closing, the torn flesh repairing itself under her guidance. A small smile spread across her lips. For the Lady of Life, helping a living creature was the very essence of purpose.

Except, she realised, this was not a living creature. This was a Hidari. Why, then, did he feel like a human? She could see the spark of life burning bright within him, the will to live and survive that was absent from the artificial Hidari. Just what, exactly, was this creature?

She turned her gaze to his face; her smile grew as she watched his mouth become a tiny 'o'. The memories of Ranma healing her shoulder when they had first met were still fresh in her mind, as were the memories of how good it had felt when she had done so. This clone, it seemed, was experiencing the same pleasure she once had.

It was a surreal experience. The clone had Ranma's face - albeit a little younger-looking than the original, and obviously, male instead of female. There was a small black smudge on his right cheek, and his deep-black hair hung unkempt over his forehead. She pulled away her hand and he opened his eyes; Ranma's piercing blue eyes, staring at her in wonder.

"Better?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from those eyes to look down at the metal grille that covered the elevator platform. Behind her, noticed neither by her or the Hidari, a small cloud of white feathers melted out of her robe and floated gently to the floor.

"Yes," the Hidari replied, visibly more relaxed. He twisted his lips in the beginnings of a smile. "I, ah ... thank you."

"You're ... different," she said at length, looking up at him once again. "You're not like the others, are you?" 

"I ... don't know," he replied. "I only met one other. I am not like him."

"Six-Three, right?" she asked.

"Unit two-six-six-three of batch two-five-three, thirty-seventh generation, third revision."

"I ... see," she replied, bewildered. "So you call him Six-Three for short?"

"That is what he called himself when he said he attacked me," the Hidari said. He gestured to the barcode tattooed on his chest. "I am designated Unit three-six-five-nine of batch two-four-eight, thirty-seventh generation, third revision."

"So that would make you ... Five-Nine?" Akane asked, eyeing the tattoo.

"That is what the others would call me," he replied, glancing away from her. "I do not want their name."

"Okay," Akane replied thoughtfully. "How about just Nine?"

"I ... like that," Nine replied, once again almost smiling. "Thank you."

"My name is Akane," she said, offering her hand. Nine looked at it for a moment before extending his own. She took it, and shook it. "I'm pleased to meet you, Nine."

"I'm pleased to meet you, too ... Akane," Nine said, watching the handshake closely. He ran his fingers along the palm of her hand and remarked, "So you really aren't a ghost."

"No, not a ghost," Akane replied with a small laugh. She released Nine's hand and sat back upon her legs. He gave her a confused look; after running through the door as she had, she did not blame him. The realisation that her eyes were glowing registered dully in the back of her mind. "But I guess I understand why you could think so."

"What are you?"

She let out a sigh; she should have seen that question coming. Folding her arms, she tilted her head back and looked up into the empty elevator shaft. It was a simple question, a reasonable question - and yet, it was not one she could answer. She could feel Ryujin inside her, and yet she was still Akane - what did that make her?

"I'm ... a friend," she said at last. She did not need to glimpse at Nine to see the questions forming on his lips. Before they could be asked, however, the painful creak of twisting metal echoed up through the shaft from below. An alarm rang in the distance, its plaintive call warbling on and off erratically. "You said you wanted to escape, right?"

*** * ***

-Ukyo? Can you hear me, Ukyo? Please come in, Ukyo.-

-There's too much interference,- said Yoiko. -Electronic systems are glitching all over the sub. That's got to be making a mess out of anything we're trying to transmit.-

-That doesn't mean I'm going to just give up,- Ryoga replied. He scowled as he edged forward, peering through the seemingly everpresent steam that clouded the corridor. -She has to be out there somewhere.-

-Why don't we go to the control room? If I had access to the surveillance systems, I could probably find her that way.-

-The control room is at the other end of the sub,- Ryoga said with a shake of his head. -I'm not going to risk taking you all that way when we're so close to the launch hangar.-

-You don't have to worry so much about me,- Yoiko responded tartly. It never ceased to amaze him how his sister could manage to sound annoyed through a medium that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. -We should go and find her.-

-You're my sister, I'm not going to leave you alone with those monsters around,- he replied firmly. Tightening his grip upon his pistol, he stepped forward into the mist. -I'm gonna get you out of here. Ukyo can ... can look after herself.-

-Okay, that's it! I've had enough,- Yoiko replied angrily. -That's a load of crap and you know it. You haven't stopped calling out for her this whole time. We can't just leave without her.-

"I'm trying to protect -you-!" Ryoga yelled out loud, whirling upon her. He grabbed her shoulders tightly, his face glowing red in the light of alarm lights. "Don't you understand? They'll kill you if they find you!"

"I want to help her," Yoiko replied firmly, looking her brother straight in the eye. "I don't want her to die because you're protecting me."

"Damn it, Yoiko--"

"I'm your sister, Ryoga. I know you. I see the way you look at her, and I'm -not- going to be the reason you leave her behind. Let's go and find her - together, okay?"

"W-what?" Ryoga stammered, recoiling from her.

"I'm not stupid, Ryoga. It's obvious. Now stop standing there blushing like an idiot and come on. I want to find her too, y'know. I've lost friends today and I'm not going to lose another one."

*** * ***

Akane watched the grey walls of the elevator shaft roll by at a painstakingly slow rate. The shaft seemed to stretch up into infinity above. She jabbed her finger again and again against the 'up' button on the elevator's control panel. The elevator was moving, albeit slowly, and emitting a worrying grinding noise as it slowly ascended the shaft. She was unsure whether the elevator was malfunctioning or if it was intended to move so slowly.

Come on, she thought. We're vulnerable here. 

Her heart thrummed against her chest; she realised that this sense of frustration was the first taste of anger she had experienced since she had awoken. In a way, the sharp emotion was refreshing - as if she had woken from a foggy dream. It was oddly comforting to know that Ryujin's all-encompassing serenity had not completely deracinated her own nature. 

Sighing, she drew her robe around herself and looked over at Nine, seeking distraction. "Do you know why the others were trying to kill you? They don't fight with each other, so why you?"

Her words echoed into silence but Nine did not respond. She stepped closer, wondering if perhaps he had not heard her, and was about to speak again when he finally answered.

"When I was sleeping I could hear the others talking, sometimes. They never talked to me, but they talked about me," he said, leaning against the platform's handrail and staring off into the blackness below. "They said that because of me there would be no more of us. They all hated me. I told them I'd done nothing wrong, but they didn't believe me. That's why I had to get out."

"No more?" Akane wondered. No more Hidari? But why? Why would they stop? Unless ...

"You're it, aren't you?" she asked as realisation struck. 

"I'm what?" 

"You're the perfect copy," she continued, remembering Happosai's words of so long ago. "The goal of the Hidari project is to create a perfect copy of Ranma. Why would they stop, unless they'd made that copy?"

"What?" Nine asked, a puzzled look on his face as he turned away from the platform edge. "What's Ranma?"

"Ranma's a person. A person who looks just like you. But if you're a perfect copy, why are you a boy?"

"What are you talking about? I ... don't understand."

"Neither do I," Akane admitted with a sigh. She frowned and turned away from him, sinking deep into her own thoughts. "I don't understand any of this."

With a shake of his head, Nine gave up any attempt to understand what Akane was saying and returned to the handrail. Silence once more descended upon them, save for the monotonous sound of the elevator's ascent. 

Akane paced back to the control panel, a deep frown creasing her face. Happosai had said the Hidari were created as weapons. If Nine was the ultimate goal of that project, would that not make him the ultimate weapon? He certainly did not seem to even resemble a weapon. But if he wasn't a weapon, then what was he? Phoenix would not create such a thing without a purpose.

"Akane, look," called Nine from the other side of the platform. She turned and saw he was pointing at a pipe that that ran along the elevator shaft. As she walked closer to him, she saw that a recess had been cut into the platform to allow for the pipe, but it had been knocked out of alignment somehow. As the platform rose it scraped noisily against the pipe.

"So that's what that sound was," she observed as she drew alongside Nine, her other concerns temporarily forgotten. She peered closely at the offending object. "That's a water pipe."

"Water? How do you know?" queried Nine.

"I just know," she replied a little too hastily. She felt a quiet surge of guilt, but there was no time for explanations. Ryujin's eyes showed her the faint glow of warm water streaming upwards through the pipe at a fast pace. "If I move this pipe, maybe it'll speed things up a bit."

"I wonder why nothing else is damaged," Nine commented, peering over the edge of the platform. The pipe was thick, and of sturdy construction. Whatever had knocked it out of alignment must have been a significant blast. "How can we move it?"

Akane smiled and closed her eyes. "Leave that to me."

Holding out her hands, she closed her eyes and envisaged the brightly-glowing stream of water before her. She could feel the heat, the gentle flow of energy that permeated it. With a wordless whisper, she reached out toward the pipe and implored the water to hear her call.

Reaching out with her mind, she took gentle hold of the water itself and guided it to the right, compelling it to push with all of its weight to shift the pipe. Obediently, the water obeyed her will and began to push against the steel that contained it. The pressure grew greater and greater; with a loud creak, the pipe itself began to move.

The platform jolted as the pipe was pushed clear, its slow juddering motion becoming swift and smooth. Akane smiled and tenderly held the water for just a moment. 

Thank you.

Opening her eyes at last, she found Nine standing beside the pipe, staring at it in absolute wonder. His eyes darted to her, then back to the pipe, then returned to her once again. 

"How did you--"

"It's ... a gift," she offered. She smiled, somewhat awkwardly, and turned away from his wide eyes. "It's hard to explain."

"You walk through walls, you move things without touching them," Nine said, his voice quiet. There was a lengthy pause. "I'm ... glad you're on my side."

Akane could not help but chuckle at the statement, despite her own misgivings. Was she on his side? She did not know. She certainly did not bear him any ill will, but that was certainly not the same thing as being 'on his side'. Truth be told, she didn't know what to think of him. He seemed nice enough. Friendly, once he realised she wasn't going to kill him.

She could feel his gaze upon her back. He was watching her closely. Every movement, no matter how well hidden by her robes, was being tracked. He certainly didn't trust her yet - particularly after her little stunt. She could not blame him for that mistrust. A part of her did not know why she had not freed him from his body the moment she saw him.

Ryujin's will - and to an extent her own - had driven her to free the Hidari clones without hesitation. And yet, this one was different. She felt no compulsion to free this one. Ryujin was oddly silent, and that was somewhat disconcerting. The fact that she had grown so dependant on Ryujin's presence in such a short time was equally worrying. How much of her consciousness was her own? Was she even the same person she had once been?

She looked down at the floor. Will Ranma even recognise me?

A droplet of rain fell to the floor of the platform in front of her. It was joined by another, and another, and another. Dozens quickly became hundreds; hundreds became thousands. The sudden downpour was warm as it touched her, soaking her hair and wetting her face. Although her body remained dry within its robe, the warmth permeated the fabric to touch her skin. She smiled, closing her eyes as she let the water wash over her.

It feels good to touch the rain again, she thought. The soothing liquid reinforced her suddenly-flagging spirits and brought cheer to her heart. However, a sudden realisation struck her, forcing her eyes open.

Rain? Inside?

She turned to Nine, who was soaked through-and-through. The Hidari shrugged and pointed upwards.

"Looks like you burst the pipe when you moved it," he said with a bemused smile on his face. "At least it's not cold, I guess."

*** * ***

Ryoga held his body against the wall of the corridor, holding one arm out behind him to keep his sister up against the wall as well. A small, repetitive thumping sound had caught his attention - it sounded like an air conditioning unit cycling on and off, but in the current situation he wasn't going to take anything for granted.

-We just came down this corridor,- complained Yoiko. -It's empty.-

-Not necessarily. It -was- empty, but someone might have heard our little shouting match,- he replied. He was still slightly annoyed at her; both for defying him, and for being annoyingly right as usual. Of course he wanted to find Ukyo, but he didn't want to risk his sister while doing so. 

Too late for worries like that, he thought to himself. Just gotta hope this turns out for the best.

-Keep calling out for her,- he instructed. -We might get lucky and find her before we get to the control room.-

-Sure,- she replied, and began calling out with her mind for Ukyo.

He peered into the darkened distance, but his search was frustrated by the abundant steam that continued to belch forth from many broken pipes. He thought back to his days in Bravo Team, and wished for just a moment that he had his old uniform - although with so much hot steam flying around, he had his doubts as to how useful the IR goggles would be.

Keeping his sidearm raised, he pulled Yoiko along as he slowly advanced down the hot, humid tunnel. Somehow, it seemed much hotter travelling away from the launch bay than it did when they were moving toward it. Thick beads of sweat rolled down his forehead to drip onto his cheeks, and his clothes grew increasingly heavy with moisture.

-B174,- remarked Yoiko, indicating a small door as they passed it. -We're about a quarter of the way to the control room, I think.-

-Damn it, this is taking too long,- he complained. -I don't know how much time we have before things get completely out of hand here.-

-They're already pretty out of hand,- she observed.

-You're right. Come on,- he said, taking her hand. -We're going to have to speed things up.-

Yoiko did not have time to speak before Ryoga yanked her forwards, pulling her from a cautious creep into a more brisk walk. He kept his eyes and pistol forward, ever vigilant - she tried her best to watch their rear as she was tugged along.

Without warning, the very floor beneath them shook - a deep, reverberating rattle that ran along the length of the corridor, shaking the walls. A fluorescent light that hung overhead - one of the few that were still functioning - fell from its bracket and smashed into the ground in front of Ryoga, plunging them into darkness as it shattered into countless pieces.

Ryoga swore, stopping abruptly upon the broken glass. Yoiko plowed into his back, nudging him forwards with her momentum. He crouched in front of her and stared ahead. -What the hell was that?-

She pulled away from him and turned, broken glass crunching beneath her shoes as she looked in both directions down the corridor. As far as she could see, nothing had changed; steam still filled the air, lit red by the everpresent alarm lighting.

A loud crash made her jump - before she could even turn, the explosive sound of gunfire ripped through the air, blasting into her ears and leaving a deafening ring in its wake. A dull, muted thud registered in her ears and when she turned, she caught sight of a dead Hidari clone sprawled across the floor in front of her kneeling brother.

-They found us,- Ryoga said, his mental voice calm and clear even as Yoiko heard his heavy, laboured breathing. -Shit.-

Without even thinking, Yoiko rushed to her brother and snatched Haruka's pistol. She closed her untrained hands around the grip and raised it, shakily pointing it down the corridor over Ryoga's shoulder.

-Give that back, Yoiko, you're not--- Ryoga began, his words cut off by another loud crash. Two Hidari spilled into the corridor through the gaping hole they had just created and charged at them. Ryoga opened fire upon one, piercing its chest with two well-placed bullets.

Yoiko stared at the remaining Hidari, paralysed with fear as it rushed toward her, its bright blue eyes burning with primal hatred. She was unable to look away from those eyes, and the haunting emptiness that lingered within them.

The thunderclap of gunfire again filled the air. Yoiko stared in horrified amazement at the Hidari standing before her. The bullet had burst through its forehead and ripped open the back of its skull, but still it stood before her, its face and chest soaked in blood that poured the entry wound. The clone hung there, standing motionless for what seemed an eternity, staring at her with vacuous eyes, before finally toppling silently backwards onto the two others already laying there.

-If you're going to use that gun, take the safety off,- Ryoga instructed as he stood without looking back at her.

Nodding dumbly, she fumbled with numb fingers to disengage the safety. While squinting to find it, she noticed a shadow moving in the corner of her eye, and whirled to face it. High-pitched screaming once more filled the air.

-Ryoga! They're behind us too!-

*** * ***

Ukyo lowered herself to one knee, peering curiously at a small black shape upon the ground. It seemed oddly out of place - sufficiently so to catch her eye as she rushed through the myriad corridors of the Leviathan Spring. Removing the glove from one hand, she reached down toward it.

"What's this," she muttered as her fingers closed around it, drawing it into her palm. She brought it up to her face - a small, black feather. It was silky smooth, and warm to the touch. She tossed it in her palm, flipping it over from one side to the other. It was heavier than a feather should be; it did not hang in the air but fell straight back into her hand.

-I am not able to identify the composition of the feather, My Lady. I am also unsure how such a thing would come to be aboard the Leviathan Spring. There are no animals aboard the vessel.-

-This is no animal feather,- she replied, curling the feather lightly between her fingers. She ran the tip of one finger along its length. -This came from Ranma.-

-What makes you so sure, My Lady?-

-I don't know how I know,- she replied, chewing her lip thoughtfully. -I just know.-

Pocketing the feather, she slipped her glove back on and stepped forward, looking back and forth across the floor. It was only a few steps before another feather caught her eye. -Look. There's another. Seraph Wing, help me find these.-

-As you wish, My Lady.-

She knelt and reached out with her spatial sense, searching the floor for tens of metres in front of her. Several feathers jumped out at her senses, giving away their positions down to the nanometre.

-Got you, Ranma. I've found your trail,- she exclaimed, clenching her fists in satisfaction. She stood and began to jog forward along the trail of feathers she had found. -Seraph Wing, trace these feathers. Show me the way.-

-As you wish, My Lady.-

She rounded a corner, picking up speed as the trail of feathers was lit before her, a glowing path for her to follow. Her jog quickly became a run. Deftly hopping over the lifeless bodies, mangled power conduits and twisted pipes she careened through corridor after corridor, spurred on by the knowledge that she was catching up to her prey.

She came to a malfunctioning door that was stuck half-open, a trail of sparks lighting the air near its control panel. She sped up, expanding her biokinetic plating as she drew closer. She collided heavily with the door, which was shoved away from her with explosive force by the charged shield and sent flying only to skid to a stop further down the corridor. 

With the obstacle removed, she finally caught sight of her prey; a malevolent black cloud hovered in the distance, a dark void that moved through the erratic lighting of the overhead fluorescents. She charged forward without hesitation or fear.

Here I come, Ranma!

Suddenly, a loud static hiss filled her ears, throwing her off-balance. Her foot caught the edge of a shattered pipe, sending her tumbling forward to the ground. Her biokinetic plating hummed, a tingling golden glow running along its length as it caught her, holding her suspended a centimetre above the floor.

She looked up in dismay to see the black cloud disappear around a corner. Snarling, determined not to lose her prey, she pulled herself to her feet, trying to ignore the raging static that flooded in her ears. She charged forward again, skidding to a stop at the T-intersection that had swallowed Ranma moments before.

-...dari everywhere! Ukyo! I need you---

The sound of Ryoga's voice caught her completely off guard. Her eyes flew wide open as she spun to the source of the sound, turning to face the direction from which she had come moments before. 

-Ryoga? What is it?- she called, holding one hand to her ear as she stepped toward the smashed door. Cold dread flooded her mind. -Can you hear me? What happened? Ryoga? Ryoga!-

-My Lady, you are heading in the wrong direction,- objected Seraph Wing as she backtracked along the corridor to the next intersection. -Ranma is moving away from us.-

-Damn it, forget Ranma!- she snarled. -Ryoga is around here somewhere and he needs my help. Find him, Seraph Wing!-

-Ryoga? He is not part of---

-Shut up! Just shut the hell up and FIND HIM!-

**T E N**


	20. Where I End And You Begin

* * *

**T E N**   
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranma_e@hotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irka@ciudad.com.ar) 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER TWENTY**   
_"Where I End And You Begin"_

* * *

Akane stared down at the elevator platform, watching each droplet of water dive into the rapidly-deepening puddles that covered the metal. The liquid was ankle-deep now, and had begun to spill over the elevated edges of the platform and into the abyss below. The added weight of the water made the elevator's progress seem even slower than before - the elevator mechanism, it seemed, was more badly damaged than she had first thought.

The water soothed her anxiety as it always did, and yet she felt somehow saddened by its presence. Her sodden hair clung to her face, releasing blue-tinged droplets of water that ran like azure tears down her cheeks. The water was a thing of beauty - she wanted to rush out and greet it, to dive into the bright ocean swell and let the waters take her where they would. A free spirit, united with the ocean. Not like this, trapped, a sodden rat in a giant metal cage, facing the dark - alone.

Behind her, Nine sneezed and shook his head back and forth, sending forth a cascade of water droplets. She glanced over her shoulder at him and offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. He returned it, grateful for the gesture. No, she was not alone. There was someone depending on her, now. Did that make her any more or less alone? She thought of Ranma, and of her father. They were both alone, too.

She shook her head to clear it of such morbid thoughts. Her hair whipped back and forth with the motion, striking her in the face. A scowl crept across her features. Almost without realising it she reached out her hand, cupping her palm to gather water. The water was drawn toward it, dozens of droplets curving gracefully through the air to land upon her skin.

A sizable puddle quickly formed and when her hand was full, she closed her fingers. Within her grasp the water changed, solidifying and hardening into a new form. Not quite a liquid but not quite a solid, it was a strange, ethereal ribbon of water that greeted her eyes when she opened her fist. She looked down at it, letting it run along her skin, its touch that of smooth, cool silk. 

"How did you do that?" asked Nine, his voice carrying a distinct tone of suspicion. "Control the water, I mean?"

"I don't control it," she insisted. She turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. His eyes followed the ribbon as she raised it and tied her hair back in a loose ponytail. She smiled at him, a gesture he did not return. She glanced away again, leaving his staring eyes behind. "I ask it for help, and it helps me."

"Ask it? How do you ask water for something?"

"How? I don't know. I just do," she said. She snorted. "I guess that sounds pretty stupid."

"It's just ... a bit much to swallow," Nine commented. He chewed his lip, glancing at the ribbon in her hair before returning his attention to her face. "It doesn't make sense to me that you can do it and not know how."

"I suppose that's true," she admitted. "It's pretty hard to explain."

How much to tell him? How much did he need to know? How much could she risk sharing? How much could she trust him? How much did she truly know, herself? She found herself having to suppress a smirk. 

I think I understand now, Ranma. 

"The water is a living creature," she said after a time, looking down at her hands as she held them both forward. As before, nearby droplets of water curved, changing their trajectories to fall gracefully into her hands. 

Slowly, she brought her hands together and watched as the water formed into a small group of spheres. The tiny balls leapt from her hand into the air and floated above her skin, circling one another. "It lives, breathes, and feels, just like us."

Nine's eyes widened as more droplets fell into the spheres, which grew and expanded with each addition. "Alive ...?"

"Mm," Akane said with a nod. Ryujin had shown her without words. Trying to describe what she had seen was more difficult than she had imagined. "All life comes from water, and all life returns to water. So, in a way, the water -is- life."

The spheres danced in lazy circles across her palm, and she smiled down at their display. "When a person dies, they return to the water. Their memories go with them, and the adding of those memories to the water is how it grows, lives and experiences - it lives through us."

"It's a cycle," Nine quietly observed, transfixed by the dancing spheres.

"That's exactly right," Akane agreed with a nod. "A person's memories are what makes them who they are. The water gives us life, and we repay the debt when we die by giving those memories to live on within the water. Nobody is lonely in the water. It's a nice thought, don't you think?"

Nine said nothing, but Akane saw his eyes move to follow the water as the collection of spheres joined together into one larger sphere that rotated slowly, suspended in midair above her palm. A tiny white light sparked inside it, glowing gently as it bounced around within the sphere. It was joined by another, and another, and another, until eventually the sphere itself began to glow milky white. 

"It's beautiful," Nine whispered, leaning in closer to stare at the sphere. The gentle glow illuminated his features, casting shadows across the wrinkles in his forehead.

His confused expression drew a laugh from her. It was astounding how the water could make her feel better under any circumstances. Its presence drew the worry and concern from her like poison from a wound, leaving behind the clear, calm serenity she had come to love. 

"I think it's showing off," Akane replied, giving him a mischevious smile.

* * * 

The gunshot rang on in his ears, a shadow of the explosive sound that ripped through the air even as the bullet ripped through flesh. Silence washed the ringing away, leaving behind only the sound of heavy breathing and the clatter of an empty magazine striking the floor. The last monster's glassy-eyed stare gave way as it fell backwards, hitting the ground with a lifeless thump.

Ryoga jammed the spare magazine into his pistol, slamming it home with his palm. The last magazine, the last defence. Yoiko held the other gun, but it too must have been empty, or nearly so. She must have used it. There seemed too many bodies for his bullets alone. 

His hands worked on their own, drawing back the slide and releasing it. It slid smoothly back into place with a snap, chambering the round that marked the beginning of the end of his ammunition. Twelve rounds remained. Too far from the launch bay, not near enough to the control room - they were stuck, right in the middle.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at his sister. She nodded erratically, her gaze not shifting from the darkened depths of the corridor. 

"How much ammo you got?" he asked. Her eyes, blazing with adrenaline, flicked to his face for but a moment. He reached for her hands without waiting for an answer. She was shellshocked - there would be none. None that made sense, anyway. 

As his hand drew near hers she snatched the pistol away, pulling it out of his reach. He frowned, but could not blame her for her wariness. In her situation, he would not want to be unarmed either. A distant rattle echoed down the corridor, barely catching his ear. It was rhythmic, rapid - footsteps. He swallowed hard.

"They're coming," Yoiko whimpered, her gaze darting back and forth in the dark. "We gotta find a way out of here."

"I know," he replied, raising his pistol. The faint, inhuman sound of screeching reached his ears. Drawn to the sound of gunfire, no doubt. He grimaced, tightened his hold upon the pistol grip. Sweat rolled from his burning palms over his fingers. The sound was coming from behind him, too. There was nowhere to go. This was a mistake. They should not have come.

"Cover my back. Aim for their chests."

* * * 

"We're almost at the top," Nine observed, pointing upwards. "That looks like a door."

"You're right, it does," Akane agreed, turning her eyes to the direction he was pointing to. Relief came and went, brushed aside by the realisation that, even once they reached the top of the elevator, they were still lost deep inside the enormous submarine. "I wonder where it leads."

She shook her head, determined not to dwell on such pessimistic thoughts. Instead she sank to one knee and lowered the sphere to the floor. The sphere dissipated, the sparks of light dissolving into nothingness as the sphere melted into the water. 

Nine's voice broke her concentration. "Do you hear that?"

The pitter-patter of falling waterdrops filled her ears, drowning out whatever sound Nine could hear. She glanced upwards, almost as an afterthought, and her eyes widened. She did not need to hear what Nine could hear. Ryujin's eyes could see quite clearly.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "I hear it."

In the absence of the sphere's bright light, the shadows above were revealed. They were coming - dozens of them. Coming straight toward the elevator.

I need your help, Akane thought as her hands slowly sank beneath the water's surface. Please. I don't have much time.

Her fingers curled, and within them she felt the water growing warmer. Tiny bubbles danced against her skin as the water heeded her call, swirling energetically around her fingertips as it gathered in her grasp, increasing its density, giving her something to hold. She shivered involuntarily, a sympathetic reaction as the water hardened, trapping the energy contained within. 

"What is it?" Nine wondered, peering up at the elevator door. "What do we do?"

Slowly she rose to her feet, drawing from beneath the surface a translucent staff. It glowed faintly, casting a soft blue hue upon the walls of the elevator shaft. She tightened her grip upon it, and felt it ripple against her skin as if to return the embrace. She smiled hopefully, comforted by its presence. With the water by her side, she felt she could stand against anything. She gave Nine a quick glance as she raised the weapon before her.

"I'll protect you. Get behind me."

* * * 

"I'm coming," Ukyo panted through gritted teeth. She blinked away the hot sweat that rolled down into her eyes. "Wait for me. I'm coming."

Pillar after pillar of the Leviathan Spring's corridors gave way to row upon row of Japanese maples passing by in a blur as she darted between them. Dried burgundy leaves crunched loudly beneath her suddenly bare feet, their touch warm and brittle. Leaping into the air she launched herself off one of the old trees, her bare feet sending snapped branches flying as she pushed herself off and over a thick clump of bushes. 

She landed tidily and leapt over a small dried streambed. Her breath surged through her mouth as she pushed her body faster, faster, faster still. She could almost see her now, off in the distance, little more than a tiny silhouette hiding within the bright evening sun. The tiny black shape disappeared over a small rise, its path hidden by the orange orb that hung low over the horizon.

She pushed herself harder, ignoring the burning in her legs and arms, fighting back the stinging pain in her lungs. She would not stop. She would not fail. She would get there in time to ... in time to ....

To save ... Ryoga?

She blinked hard, stumbling as the blood-red hue of the forest vanished, overshadowed by the crimson glow of the Leviathan Spring's emergency lights. The clear twilight air grew heavy with steam and smoke, making her choke upon the heat. She skidded to a stop at a T-intersection and panted heavily, glancing left and then right.

It's happening more often, she thought desperately, her mind swimming in half-remembered images. She bent over and rested her hands upon her knees, panting for breath as she tried to think. 

What the hell is happening to me? What are these memories?

-Who are you talking to, My Lady?-

-What?- she asked, Seraph Wing's voice catching her off guard.

-You were speaking a moment ago, but there is no-one nearby to engage in conversation.-

-Was I?- she stammered, her mind struggling to focus. She leaned heavily upon the nearest wall as dizziness swept over her. The everpresent wail of alarms faded from her consciousness, leaving behind empty silence.

-My Lady, are you alright?- Seraph Wing inquired, the AI's voice echoing in the sudden emptiness. -Your heart rate is erratic and your body temperature is rising abnormally. You should---

"--not be afraid, dear. We both knew this day would come."

The voice was quiet, a woman whispering at Ukyo's ear. She jolted and whirled in place, the sudden movement sending her already-disoriented body sliding down the wall. She could feel it, sense it. A presence behind her, beside her, all around her. She peered into the darkness, but nobody was there.

"Who are you?" she called, her words wild and frightened.

"My time is almost over. But do not regret this. I have brought my fate upon myself."

The ethereal words encircled her, wrapping themselves around her with silken softness. She could see the forest again, aged trees lit by the shards of red sunlight piercing the dying leaves overhead. She breathed, having not done so for a time, and tasted the scent of cut grass in the air. 

The voice echoed between the trees, coming from everywhere and nowhere. She spun through the falling leaves, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman, to understand why the voice was so very familiar. Birdcalls filled the air, confusing, distracting.

"Now go. You have a task to complete," said the voice, suddenly concrete. Behind her. She turned toward it, squinting as the sun's glare burned into her eyes--

-My Lady!- 

Alarms screamed inside her head, bright warnings blinking urgently before her eyes as Seraph Wing's emergency response routines surged into action. She felt her whole body shaking with the frantic beating of her heart, the throbbing in her head as hot blood seared her veins. She fell to her knees, clutching the sides of her head as the scorching pain burned into her mind.

-Your neural activity is spiralling out of control! I can't stop it!-

The sunlight flared across her vision once more, growing brighter and brighter until it obscured all else. She squinted her eyes in a futile attempt to hold back the brilliant light. Slowly, the light began to fade once more.

A woman stood before Ukyo, half-obscured by the trunk of a maple tree. The light of the sinking sun danced over the woman's face, igniting her auburn hair and casting aside the shadows that obscured her features for just a moment.

"You," Ukyo whispered, her eyes widening. "Gods, I ... I know you ...."

The woman smiled. 

Ukyo jolted at the distant sound of gunfire. Her surreal fantasy dissolved before her eyes and fell away, leaving her on her knees in the corridor once more. The memories melted into each other, combining and distorting. Within moments, the images were blurred beyond recognition.

She shook her head back and forth as the sights, sounds and smells of the Leviathan Spring flooded back into her senses. Nausea gripped her stomach as the dizzying flood swept over her. She closed her eyes to block it out, but to no avail. 

-My Lady! Can you hear me?-

Her stomach heaved. She coughed, wincing as a burning pain filled her throat. She did not consciously open her mouth, but the sound of her own retching reached her ears. Slowly, as the dizziness subsided, she opened her eyes and looked down at the puddle of vomit below. 

-I hear you.-

-That last neural spike almost left you unconscious. Your body is burning itself up. The neural interfaces are malfuntioning, but I cannot identify the source of the problem. You must evacuate immediately and seek full system diagnostics.-

-No!- she growled, pulling herself to her feet. -We can deal with it later. I won't let this beat me. Ryoga needs me!-

-That may be, but you are in no state to help him! Your biokinetic plating is malfunctioning again. I had to take it offline to stop the neural spike. Your neural activity is stabilising, but even with the plating deactivated, it has not returned to normal. The cortical bindings are having difficulty coping. If they fail, we will disconnect.-

-It doesn't matter. I don't need the damned plating. Just tell me where he is,- Ukyo insisted, bringing one hand to clutch at her burning forehead in a vain attempt to push back the agonising headache that had begun to take root there.

-I cannot risk that, My---

-Tell me!-

-As you wish ... My Lady,- Seraph Wing replied after a time. -I am bound to your will, even if your will is foolish. My sensors indicate that Ryoga is directly ahead, further down this corridor.-

-I'm not going to leave him,- Ukyo said resolutely. She took a step forward and shuddered as the nausea made itself known again. -But I think I'm going to need your help.-

* * * 

"They're here, Akane."

Akane tightened her hold upon her staff, staring up into the blackness overhead. The rattling sound Nine had noticed had ceased, leaving only the everpresent sound of the water spilling from the pipe overhead. A long, low creak echoed up from the depths of the elevator shaft.

The rattling may have stopped, but she could still see them, looking down at her. Ryujin's eyes could see them hovering menacingly above, a dark cloud overhead. Hidari. Dozens of them, perched like crows upon a small service gantry near the top of the elevator shaft. 

"Yeah," she whispered. "Stay behind me. I'll take care of this."

* * * 

Yoiko pressed her back against her brother's, recoiling in horror as the horde of monsters mindlessly advanced, the stares of their empty eyes not leaving her even as the clones passed over the blood-soaked bodies of their fallen bretheren. They no longer charged as the first had done. They now seemed aware of the inevitable, content to walk as they closed inexorably upon her. 

She felt Ryoga's shoulder jolt, heard the clap of a gunshot behind her - a moment of deathly silence - then the shrill scream, a heavy thud. He made it seem so easy. Her arms shook uncontrollably as she slowly raised her own pistol, both hands clasped awkwardly about the grip, sweat-soaked finger gingerly touching the trigger. 

She didn't want to. She had never killed anything before in her life. She had never even held a gun before, let alone fired one. She hated what fate had forced her into. But she had no choice.

Hot tears blurred her vision and stung her cheeks as she stared down the unsteady barrel of her gun. Her finger tensed. Squeezed. The trigger began to move, resisting more than she had imagined it would. It was not that easy to kill someone. She started to squeeze harder.

Her eyes closed themselves, trying to banish the multitude of identical faces from her mind's eye. She could hear them breathing, snarling. She was out of time.

A burst of gunfire shook her, and her eyes snapped open. The monsters were panicked, turning away from her to some unseen foe behind them. The plink-plink-plink of footsteps reached her ears, now loud enough to hear over the hissing and moaning of the monsters.

Her finger slipped from the trigger and her eyes grew wide as she saw what seemed to be Ukyo's head rising over the heads of the monsters. Another gunshot burst through the air. She stared blankly, uncomprehending, as Ukyo's mouth moved. It was a moment later that the sound of Ukyo's voice penetrated her brain and the words broke through:

"Get down!"

* * * 

Nine held his breath as he lowered himself to his knees, trying and failing to suppress the shivering that wracked his body. He was soaked from head to toe, the cold water having long since drained the warmth from his skin, but it was not the chill that caused his body to tremble.

He could feel them lurking above. He did not know how many there were, but even one was enough to fill him with dread. They were just like him, and yet he was somehow different. How, he did not know, but that difference was the reason they hated him, and the reason he hated them.

In his sleep - in the tube - he had heard them inside his mind. Calling to him, screaming at him, their howling voices never ceasing their cries for his blood. When his slumber finally ended and the tube released him he felt an immeasurable sense of relief - at last he had escaped them. The voices were gone. His mind was his own. The feeling of exhilaration was indescribable. An entirely new world had been opened to him. A world free of their hatred.

Then he met Six-Three. Then, it all changed.

Nine clutched his arms to his chest, remembering the look in Six-Three's eyes the moment they had met. In that moment, he realised that he had escaped nothing. Their hatred had followed him. In that instant, his paradise became purgatory. 

Six-Three's eyes burned with a hatred so intense it went beyond the complexities of emotion. It was a simple, primal hatred, something so deeply ingrained that it could only be borne out of instinct. The vicious beating he had taken at Six-Three's hands had injured his body, but it was the hatred in those eyes that had injured his soul.

Those eyes. He would never forget those eyes. They were his own eyes. He had escaped the attack with his life, but he knew the scars left by those eyes would not heal. He had realised then that this world was a dark place, that waking from his dream had not delivered him from the torment he had suffered.

Then he met Akane. Then, it all changed again.

She had looked upon him not with hatred but with compassion, understanding and kindness. She had treated his wounds and healed his heart with her gentle words. Even now, as his foul bretheren bore down upon him, she stood between him and them, a beautiful ivory goddess standing firm and tall against the darkness.

She moved. He blinked, taken by surprise as she darted forth, leaving a wake behind her as she slid forward through the water. He glanced up and realised that the enemy had already begun to move. He swallowed hard and silently wished his newfound guardian luck.

Three had leapt from their perch and were falling toward the platform, but Akane was already in motion, leapfrogging from the platform railing into the air. She twisted in midair, smashing her staff into the head of her first enemy. His body spun violently from the impact, arms flailing wildly. 

Akane shoved both feet into his chest, springing away from him and toward the next. She was halfway between them, her staff held high, when the first's body turned to water and ruptured, the detonation sending globs of water flying in all directions.

Even as Akane brought her staff down to smash into the head of the second her other hand was outstretched toward the mass of water that was once the first. She called out to the water, quickly hardening the globs into sharp shards of ice. A simple flick of her wrist send the shards careening toward the remaining enemy.

The second's body, pushed by the downward strike, smashed powerfully into the elevator platform and ruptured. Akane landed lightly upon the platform as his body's water ran over the edge in a torrent. The third's corpse, impaled by dozens of ice spikes, plummeted past the platform and into the shaft below, a faint bursting sound the only sign of his demise.

Nine stared, open-mouthed, as Akane looked upward with a smirk upon her face. She raised her staff over her head and brought it down to rest across her shoulders.

"I've become stronger," she called with an asperity Nine had never before heard in her voice. "You won't beat me that easily."

* * * 

Ukyo did not resist as Seraph Wing co-opted her consciousness, lowering its spatial sense over her mind like a veil. The AI's visualisation supplanted and superceded all of her own senses, which were now little more than a distraction. She felt herself disconnect from the world around her and let out a sigh of relief as the quiet, soothing tactical combat interface sank into place around her. 

The heat and humidity of the steam-filled corridor was gone along with her nausea, replaced with the infinite clarity of her spatial sense. The sounds, sights and smells disappeared, leaving her in solitude. This was no hazy recallection, no half-remembered fantasy. This was real. This was now. There was no place for confusing memories here - only absolute, perfect precision. 

She felt herself hop up against the nearest wall and push off with one foot, her enhanced leg muscles sending her careening headfirst into the air, diving over the horde and toward Ryoga. The sensation was akin to floating as she hung in the air, seemingly suspended in time. 

Her arms shifted of their own accord, bringing her guns to bear upon the clones directly below her. She fired, explosive detonations of gunpowder seeming as shockwaves that rippled through her mind. She felt the bullets as if they were a part of her body, stabbing downwards with utmost precision through the bodies of her enemies.

The world seemed to rotate around her and then she sensed gravity shifting; a moment later the floor pressed at her feet once again. Updated tactical information flooded into her brain, a blurred stream of consciousness from Seraph Wing's sensor arrays. The relative positions of Ryoga and Yoiko were dutifully noted and accounted for. 

She felt herself moving, spinning, sending volley after volley of supersonic blasts into the crowd that ringed her. A tiny part of her mind kept track of the number of enemies remaining, decreasing the count with each precisely-aimed shot. Every single bullet found its mark, penetrating vital organs with absolute precision. One shot, one kill. 

She observed the gunfight with sheltered dispassion, tracking the trajectories of each bullet and the positions of her remaining targets. Her discarded sense of hearing did not hear the screams of her enemies, nor did her unused eyesight show her the haze of bright blood that rose from each bullet's impact. 

A low-ammunition warning flared across her mind but was quickly dismissed, handled by an autonomous Seraph Wing module. Without conscious thought her hands deftly withdrew two magazines from pouches on her legs and jammed them into her guns. Barely two seconds passed before she was firing once more.

She felt something then, a glitch hidden amid the complexities of the tactical display. Where moments before there had been only raw, digital data, there was now something new. Something the tactical routines were not designed to handle. Something that punctured the datastream, rose above the autonomous subsystems and demanded the attention of her conscious mind.

A ... memory? Here?

* * * 

She's ... incredible.

Nine stared, held utterly in thrall by the spectacle unfolding before him. His life outside the tube had been short, his experiences few, and yet he knew in his life he would see few things more astounding than what was unfolding before his eyes in that moment.

Her movements were swift, graceful and deadly, her irenic spirit seemingly cast aside to make way for a bold warrior's soul. His brothers descended upon her, a slavering horde of fists and teeth and yet despite their numbers she effortlessly cut wide swaths through their disorganised ranks.

His eyes followed her, drawn as moths to a flame. Her robe flowed around her, disguising her movements as she curled and weaved. Her movements seemed more akin to an artful dance than combat, filled as they were with gentle arcs and sways. She ducked, rolled, leapt and flipped around, over, under and past her enemies, striking out with astonishing force from what seemed to be all directions at once. Her staff was rarely less than a blur of motion, its dizzying movements leaving flying trails of water in their wake.

She moved at a speed beyond his measure and yet, somehow, she appeared calm, quiet - almost contemplative. Even as her body spun in a fury, casting forth a furious maelstrom of water to strike down her enemies, her face was unmarked by emotion, her heart untainted by anger. She was at peace, and all the more deadly for it.

They can't even get near her, he realised. She's incredible.

He noticed, in his moment's contemplation, that even in the midst of such chaos she managed to steer them all away from him. Surrounded by so many enemies all screaming for her blood, she still thought of him, of his safety. He had not been attacked or even approached because of her.

Perhaps, he thought, the world was not such a dark place after all. Perhaps his situation was not as hopeless as he had feared. Before he could even smile at the thought, it was stolen from him by a sudden flash of anxiety. There was something wrong. Something was coming.

* * * 

"Behind you."

The voice was soft, the words silken and yet they were carried with a strength that took them into the far reaches of the bright white void. Ukyo blinked, taken by surprise. Sound? She had no ears to hear with. How could she hear sounds?

Turning, she was met by a woman in a bright blue kimono, decorated ornately with a spiralling pattern of white butterflies. Somehow, the pattern was familiar to her. The woman smiled at her.

The woman was young, appearing little older than Ukyo herself. Her face - framed by fine blue silk and light auburn hair - was soft, smooth, porcelain painted with a serene smile. Despite the calm expression upon her face, the woman's deep blue eyes were deep, seeming to stare straight through Ukyo, their haunted blue cores carried an intensity of emotion that made her heart ache. 

Something about those eyes touched her, filling her with a sense of amazement, even reverence, that was almost tangible. She stared, mesmerised by the beauty and majesty that emanated from within that face. Her dry throat protested as she swallowed, and she realised peripherally that she had somehow acquired a body.

A chilled wind dusted them both, rustling the fabric covering Ukyo's new body and giving gentle sway to the kimono of her visitor. 

"You ..." she whispered at length as she found the voice inside her new body. "I know you. I saw you ... in the forest."

"I'm glad you remember," the woman replied, visibly pleased. "I was worried that you had long since forgotten everything."

"Where am I? Where did Ryoga go?"

"Don't worry, your body is still fighting for your friend," the woman replied. She smiled kindly. "You think of him before yourself. Your concern for him is admirable."

"Who are you? Are you the one showing me these memories?"

"They aren't my memories to show," the woman replied. The wind abated, leaving them still. "They are yours. You found them yourself."

"Mine?" Ukyo asked, taken aback. "How can they be mine?"

"Even if you don't recognise them, they are your memories," the woman replied. The smile faltered, her eyes turned away.

"How can they be my memories if I don't remember them?"

Ukyo stared at her, eyes locked upon the dancing silk butterflies. The pattern, the woman, they were both so familiar to her. Dancing at the edge of her memory, tantalisingly close to recallection but just beyond her reach. She knew this woman. She could feel it in every part of her being. She knew in her heart that, whoever she was, the woman was telling the truth.

"The curse is slowly corroding your memory," she replied. "I'm sure you can feel it eating away at the edges of your mind."

"Curse? What curse?"

The woman turned away, clasping her hands together behind herself, and began to pace slowly back and forth thoughtfully. Ukyo watched her for a time, waiting for an answer, but somehow unwilling to ask again. After a brief silence, the woman turned to face Ukyo again.

"Tell me. Do you remember who you are hunting?"

"What? Hunting? I ... Ranma," Ukyo said, surprised at her own hesitation.

The woman's friendly expression did not change. "What do you think Ranma did?"

Ukyo swallowed hard. That, at least, she remembered. "She ... killed my mother." 

"Is that so?" A silent moment passed before the woman cocked an eyebrow, stepped toward Ukyo and placed her hands upon her shoulders. "Do you even remember your mother?"

Ukyo stared, open-mouthed. She wanted to cry out in outrage at such a humiliating question, to knock down this cruel accusation. Who could forget their own mother? And yet, she could not summon anger or even indignation. 

A stark, painful realisation swept across her mind, a chilling thought that sent cold sweatdrops rolling down the back of her neck. She swallowed, unable to ignore a sudden, painful knot in her stonach. Her vision blurred as tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head, unable to speak.

"I didn't think so."

"How can I not know that?" Ukyo asked through sobs as salty tears stained her cheeks. She sniffed and wrung her hands, utterly at a loss. "How could I forget her?"

"Don't be embarrassed," the woman offered kindly. "It isn't your fault."

"Whose fault is it, then?" Ukyo asked, her head dropping limply to her chest. She felt herself gathered into the woman's arms, the warmth of the embrace closing around her. The tears streamed down her face as the gravity of her situation became apparent. How could she avenge a mother she couldn't even remember?

"It is just the nature of these things." The woman's voice washed over the top of her head, as warm and soft as the silk pressed to her face. "You were not supposed to linger this long. The curse is gaining strength, and you are having difficulty coping. It is understandable, even for one as strong as you."

A shuddered breath passed between Ukyo's lips. She held herself tight against the tear-soaked silk for a long time, and when she did eventually speak it was between sobs. 

"I ... I want to ask you something."

"Anything, dear."

A thousand and one questions were swirling inside her mind, and yet she could bring herself to ask only three. "How do you know all this? Why do I ... trust everything you say?" she asked, pressing her eyes closed. "Who are you?"

"You already know the answers to those questions, dear. It would be meaningless for me to simply tell you what you should know," the woman replied. "Think. Remembering these things for yourself will make you stronger."

"I remember you, your presence. I feel like I have known you my entire life," Ukyo whispered. "But I don't know who you are. Why don't I know you?"

The woman raised Ukyo's head and pressed her lips to her forehead, using one hand to brush aside her hair. "It's all inside you, dear. It will all come back if you want it to."

"I ... I wish it was that easy, My Lady."

Ukyo's eyes shot open. She pulled herself out of the embrace and stared up at the woman's face. The woman, for her part, appeared as surprised as Ukyo.

"You see?" the woman said, quickly recovering her easy smile. She reached down and wiped tears from beneath Ukyo's astonished eyes. "You're strong. You're remembering already."

"You," Ukyo stammered, suddenly breathless. She stared numbly as her legs gave way from beneath her, leaving her on her knees. The vague sense of recognition that had been dancing so elusively at the fringe of her consciousness burst into the centre of her mind. The name that had been on the tip of her tongue was suddenly stuck in her throat. "You are ...."

With blood draining from her face, Ukyo collapsed forward, pressing her forehead forcefully to the ground in total submission.

"Lady Nodoka," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Forgive me, My Lady, I didn't mean to--"

"It's alright, dear," Nodoka replied, and Ukyo felt a hand atop her head. She looked up, and Nodoka was smiling down at her. "Now, stop that. If anything, I should be bowing to you."

Ukyo stared in wonder at Nodoka's face. There was a bizarre familiarity hidden within those features, a sense of recallection that went beyond a simple memory. She -knew- this woman, in a way that she did not understand. To feel such devotion and affection toward a person and not have the slightest inkling of the source of those feelings was an intensely unsettling experience, and yet in Nodoka's soothing presence such discomfort seemed utterly insignificant.

"Get up, dear," Nodoka urged.

"As you wish, My Lady," Ukyo stammered, rising slowly and shakily from the ground. Her head stayed low, her eyes locked upon the ground as her cheeks burned. 

"Tell me, why did you bow to me?"

"Because you are my master and I am your apprentice."

"And how do you know that?"

"I ... remembered your face, My Lady. The face of my master."

"Do you remember anything else?"

Ukyo closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. "Nothing, My Lady. I had forgotten that I even had a master."

"Interesting. So you don't know why you are my apprentice?"

"No, My Lady," Ukyo replied, her cheeks burning. Why was her memory so distorted? Why could she not remember what her master wanted her to?

"Then I have a question for you," Nodoka said. "If you don't know -why- you are my apprentice, why do you accept it as a fact?"

"Because," Ukyo began, opening her eyes as she struggled to find the words. For a moment, she could not. "Because I am bound to your will. I don't know why, but I know that I am."

She was swimming in newfound emotions. On one hand she did not understand how such utter devotion to Nodoka could appear out of thin air - on the other, she could not understand how she could ever have forgotten it. It seemed so natural that, despite its suddenness, the desire to serve felt a part of her. The intensity of her devotion was almost frightening, and yet now that she remembered it, she could not imagine living without it.

Ukyo held her position, waiting for her master's response, but none came. Nodoka's breath brushed over her head, and there was a quiet sigh. Ukyo trembled as she felt the warmth of her master's hand atop her head, soft fingertips running lightly through her hair. Her head craned upwards of its own volition, seeking the contact.

"Very well, then. I have a task for you, if you insist on being my apprentice again. Look at me, and I will explain it."

Slowly, warily, Ukyo raised her head, feeling as though she were breaking an ancient taboo by willingly looking upon the face of her master. She swallowed as Nodoka's face once more came into view, smile still intact.

"This is a supremely important task. In this, you must not fail. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Ukyo acknowledged, bowing her head momentarily. "What am I to do, My Lady?"

* * * 

Ryoga let out a long, slow, shaky breath.

The corridor was still, the monsters slain. The acrid stench of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the smell of scorched gunpowder. Thick blood covered the walls, floor, and ceiling. A fine red mist still floated on the air, slowly descending toward the red sea of bodies below. Water sprayed wildly from the damaged pipes overhead, diluting and spreading the crimson liquid further still.

He swallowed hard, not daring to look down. He was covered in it, he knew. Yoiko was, as well. He could feel her small hand in his, shaking uncontrollably. His own hand was shaking just as much as hers.

Ukyo knelt with her back toward him, arms akimbo, two pistols pointing at the ceiling. He could see her shoulders rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. He wanted to run out to her, to cry out her name, to ask if she was alright, to hold her in his arms. He wanted to do anything, even if it was just to scream at the horror of it all. But he could not move, he could not speak.

Gods, Ukyo ... is this what I helped to create? What have we done to you?

Slowly, Ukyo rose to her feet. Her bloodsoaked uniform dribbled the blood of her enemies. Her skin, her hair, her entire body was soaked. 

Ryoga felt Yoiko's hand tighten its hold on his. Ukyo turned toward them, staring from beneath a bloodsoaked brow with bloodshot eyes that shone with a dangerous gleam. Her guns sank back into their holsters as she approached them, holding them in place with her gaze. 

She walked through a stream of water - the biokinetic plating flickered on for a moment, deflecting the water with an angry hiss, before faltering and disappearing, allowing the water through once more. The water ran over her face and carried with it the blood, and seemingly her anger. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, and even within the pipe's spray he could see tears forming there.

"Ryoga," she silently mouthed to him. "Help me." 

Her body began to pitch forward. Ryoga, his fear forgotten, dashed forward and grabbed her, closing his arms tightly around her. He held her light frame easily, supporting her under the water's spray. 

"Ryoga ... tell me," Ukyo whispered, her eyes falling closed. "My Lady ... tell me why it ... calls me ...."

"I've got you," he said, pulling her body against his. He flinched at the feel of her skin as she shivered in his arms. She was hot - too hot. He turned to his sister. "Yoiko, she's burning up!"

"What's wrong with her?" Yoiko asked, stepping forward to look at Ukyo with wide eyes. Her pistol clattered to the floor, abandoned.

"I don't know," Ryoga replied, his voice wavering, "but it looks serious. We've gotta get her to a hospital."

"We can't take her to a hospital with Seraph Wing implants!" Yoiko replied, taken aback by her brother's words. The fear in her voice was gone, replaced with absolute incredulity. With the threat removed, her usual personality was once more making itself known. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I don't know ... I don't know!" Ryoga replied, fighting back a panic that was clawing insistently at the edge of his mind. The feel of a limp body in his arms was scaring the hell out of him. He tried to calm himself, to think. "Okay. Okay. We have to get her down to the lab. We can take care of her there."

"No way!" Yoiko exclaimed, grabbing her brother's arm. "We've got Ukyo, now we have to get out of here!"

"But--"

"Stop it!" Yoiko yelled. "We probably would have made it to the control room and back, but we sure as hell aren't going to survive a trip down to the labs. This sub is burning, and the containment systems are shot to hell. Once they fail completely, this whole sub is going to turn into a furnace."

Ryoga stared at her, his eyes angry, his jaw tight. She grasped his shoulder and shook it, exasperated.

"Even if we make it down there, there's no power. We can't do anything without power. Think about it. If we stay here we are all going to die. We've got her now, and the only way to help her is to get off this sub. Do you want to fight more of those things? Come on!"

* * * 

Akane panted hard, lungs burning as she forced breath into them. She had been fighting for what seemed like an age. The Hidari clones offered little resistance to her artful strikes; however, they had the advantage of numbers. No matter how many she freed from their bodies, the dark cloud overhead seemed to grow no thinner. 

Two more dived at her, one at each side. She raised her staff horizontally, catching one in the face and the other in the chest with the ends of her weapon. Their own momentum did the damage, pressing their bodies into the staff until they popped like overripe tomatoes. As quickly as they were gone, another three appeared to take their place, attacking as one. She spun her staff, swinging it at an angle to catch all three in one strike.

Her strokes were becoming wilder - her muscles were losing the strength to control their movements. Even with Ryujin's help, she could not pretend that her body was not growing weak. Perhaps, she realised, that was exactly what the Hidari were hoping for. 

They're trying to wear me down, she thought. Waiting for a weak spot.

As another two charged at her she deftly leapt into a high somersault, vaulting gracefully over their heads. Her staff came down upon their necks, sending them sprawling. 

It's only a matter of time. What do I do?

Her eyes caught a glimpse of Nine, still huddled in his corner, watching the fight with wide young eyes. No, she realised, he isn't watching the fight. What, then?

She landed from her somersault and gripped her staff more tightly, readying it for the next attack. But no attack came. The sudden lack of attack was jarring, and she found herself shifted slightly off-balance by the sudden stillness in her own body.

She breathed heavily, the sound of her own breath loud in her ears. She was still surrounded, still heavily outnumbered, and yet - they did not attack. Straightening herself, she planted one end of her staff upon the ground and looked around at the motionless Hidari. 

They, like Nine, were staring up into the elevator shaft, their eyes as wide as his. Bewilderment boiled inside her brain as she looked around at the crowd of Hidari. They were ignoring her now, their relentless attacks forgotten. Every single one was staring.

"Ranma," she whispered, as realisation took hold. Her companion was there, standing among the Hidari on the perch far above.

A frigid chill descended upon the platform, freezing the falling droplets of water into hardened balls of ice that smashed violently into the platform, shattering into tiny fragments as they crashed into the metal. The air grew heavy as a mist arose from the water, thick clouds that obscured her vision.

Even inside the warmth of her robe she could not suppress the shiver that ran down her spine. Her staff fell from suddenly-numb fingers and clattered to the ground. A moment later it dissolved into the water. Her breath shook as she exhaled, her frozen breath disappearing into the mists. She wanted to turn and look where the Hidari were looking, but she could not. 

She knew what was coming. Ryujin's eyes were opened wide. She finally -understood-, and with understanding came a cold, paralysing dread. No, it was not Ranma. Not any more. She should have known. She should have seen it coming. If she had known earlier -- but that did not matter. 

It was too late for that now. There was no point in running or hiding. There was nothing left but to wait. With the water pipe frozen, the artificial rain ceased. The pitter-patter of falling water disappeared, swallowed up by an unnatural silence. She closed her eyes, silently enduring the painfully long moment of anticipation.

And then, at last, Ranma-Ryukyu moved.

**T E N**


	21. The Exodus

* * *

**T E N**   
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic   
By R. E. (ranmaehotmail.com)   
Illustrations by Irka (irkaciudad.com.ar)

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**   
_"The Exodus"_

* * *

_Ranma!_

Akane watched with hope in her heart as the formless black mass descended toward her, sinking like the night to swallow the faltering light overhead. She could not see her companion within the cloud but Ryujin's eyes could see hundreds of tiny, crackling sparks of energy that darted like lightning beneath the seemingly-benign surface.

A wave of cold hit her, a blast of frozen air that stung her eyes. She winced, squinting and raising her hands to cover them as her hair rippled violently in the gale. The cloud landed heavily upon the platform, flattening and spreading from the force of the impact.

A deep thud reverberated through the shaft. The platform itself gave way under the force of the collision, steel scraping against steel as the floor was pushed downwards. Akane wobbled, struggling to stay balanced as the vibrations shook her.

The elevator juddered to a halt with a loud thump, which echoed into absolute silence. The wind died down and Akane lowered her hands, her eyes widening as a shape began to emerge - a pillar of smoke, crowned with bright red fire. Taller and taller it grew, seeming to stretch the smoke until at last the blackness gave way, parting in two to allow Ranma's head and shoulders to emerge from beneath.

Ranma's eyes were closed, her head tilted forward, her pale skin glowing faintly in the darkness. The rich red light of the fire atop her head flickered across her face, deepening the shadows around her eyes. Akane gasped, realising that Ranma's hair was not on fire - Ranma's hair _was_ fire. Thin burning strands dangled loosely across her cheeks, tiny tongues of flame dancing to and fro.

"Ranma," she whispered, her body trembling. "What ... what have you ...."

Suddenly, one of Ranma's eyes shot open, a bright red orb burning with a light that was both beautiful and terrible.

Even within the protective shelter of her robe, Akane felt her own body growing colder, heavier. Weariness was taking hold of her, slowing her breathing and weighing down her eyelids. She could feel her legs wobbling, buckling under the sudden weight of her own body. She tried to look away from that eye but she could not. Its stare was unrelenting, its power undeniable.

Still staring with one eye Ranma gave a thin smile, revealing sharpened fangs. They grazed her lip, loosing droplets of blood upon her pale chin. The liquid bubbled and evaporated within moments, swept away to join the smoke.

The cloud surrounding Ranma shifted, a small bump growing and parting as she raised her arm. The dark mass gave way and Akane gasped. What once had been Ranma's arm was now a twisted mass of flame, the scorched red flesh of her hand tipped not with fingers but with sharp black talons.

"Ranma," she whispered, horrified. Ranma's body stood before her, but it was not Ranma. This creature was a twisted caricature, a demon wearing her companion's face.

_Gods_, Akane thought desperately, clutching her hands to her temples. _Is this ... Ryukyu? Is this what Ranma has suffered for nine hundred years?_

Ryujin's voice cried within her, compelling her to run, to hide, to make good her escape before it was too late. _Go, go! Run while you still can! You must not fight her!_

_No!_ she yelled back, clenching her fists in anger. _I'm _not_ afraid. I'm not going to abandon Ranma!_

Ryujin's voice rose to a scream, a wordless cry of anguish and despair. The dragon within her truly feared Ryukyu, and as Ryujin's fear rose, her own rose in turn. She gritted her teeth and fought back the fear, pushing it aside with her own determination.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Ranma," she called out to the demon before her, "but I'm coming to get you."

Silence.

The veil of darkness was slowly lifted from Nine's mind. He did not remember passing out, and yet he could not remember anything else either. He tried to move. Save for a tingling sensation in his feet and a dull ache in his lungs, his body was completely numb. Leaden weight held his eyes closed.

He snorted, taking a deep breath as the weight of unconsciousness began to lessen. Frozen air filled his throat and the ache in his lungs intensified, sharpening to become a stabbing pain in his chest. He grimaced, or tried to, his lifeless muscles refusing to respond.

The drowsiness lifted further, its disappearance accelerating until suddenly his eyes flew open, allowing blinding light to penetrate the darkness. Pain surged through his mind, forcing him to squint, to allow his eyes to adjust. All around him sound grew louder, clearer, as though he were emerging from beneath the surface of the ocean. Dull tones resolved themselves into murmured voices.

He took another breath, and this time he saw moisture rising before his eyes. He could feel his lips quivering as the air passed between them, hear the click-clack of his teeth chattering involuntarily. He became aware of a soreness in his throat. This came as an enormous relief to him. As if in acknowledgement of his discovery, his heart gave a deep thump.

_So I'm not dead._

The light faded away as his eyes adjusted. Before long its source was revealed - a fluorescent tube far above, glowing dimly, its light obscured by a lingering cloud of thick, black smoke.

_Cold ... too cold ... where am I? What happened?_ He coughed, and the pain returned to his lungs. _And where the hell is all this smoke coming from?_

Something at the edge of his vision caught his notice. Actually moving was out of the question, so he simply allowed his head to loll to one side. It took a moment for his eyes to refocus. The moment they did, he wished they had not. The smoke peeled away, revealing his twin and tormentor, towering over him.

_Six-Three!_

Panic gripped his body, and he tried to move, to get up, to defend himself somehow - but he could not. He wanted to scream, to call out for help - to do something, anything, but even that was beyond him. He stared in helpless despair at Six-Three's face, the features of his twin and tormentor locked in a twisted smirk.

_He's going to kill me. He waited for me to wake up. He's going to kill me. He's going to--_

Nine's frantic thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as, suddenly, Six-Three's forehead cracked. A tiny fracture spread across his face, growing diagonally down across his nose and beneath one eye. It spread, growing longer and wider before branching out, until suddenly a large chunk fell away.

Nine watched in astonishment as the chunk tumbled end over end for what seemed an age, before smashing into the cold metal in front of his face. It shattered violently, sending tiny shards flying in all directions. A few landed gently upon his face. He instinctively closed his eyes, recoiling at the burning sensation of blood upon his skin. A few moments passed before he realised that it was not blood that stained his face. It was not heat that burned his skin - it was cold. Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes.

_What the hell ...?_

His eyes shot up to Six-Three. The Hidari stood unmoving, still smirking with what remained of his face. Beneath the skin was not flesh and bone but clear, solid ice. As he stared, fractures began to appear all over Six-Three's body. One hand came loose and fell away, leaving a jagged, frozen stump.

A sudden surge of adrenaline poured into his body and his muscles jumped into motion, pulling him up and away from Six-Three. He managed to raise himself to a sitting position against the elevator railing just as Six-Three's abdomen split into three and collapsed to the floor.

He pressed himself tightly against the railing, staring in dismay at the scattered pieces, some of which were beginning to melt. He panted, gulping down frozen air through a dry throat. A dizzying sensation washed over him as the blood drained from his head. Six-Three was the most terrifying creature he had ever met - what on Earth had been able to do this?

For as long as she could remember, Akane had felt a benevolent presence alongside her. Perhaps it was nothing so tangible as a presence; more an everpresent sense that she was not alone, even inside her own head. She could feel it watching her when she lay in bed half-asleep, when she was walking home from school, when she was planting flowers in the garden behind her house. Wherever she went, it came with her. Never speaking, never moving - simply there, inside her. Silent but steadfast.

As she grew older she began to rationalise it - it must be her mind's way of coping with the loss of her mother. A fantasy of her own creation, something comforting to believe in. She convinced herself for so long that she began to believe it. She ignored the fact that she was the only person with such a companion, such as it was, and tried to move on with her life.

But then, Ranma entered her life, and everything changed. Suddenly, this ethereal presence was quite real. What was once nothing more than a vague sense of comfort and reassurance began to coalesce. Suddenly, the feelings became words. The presence she carried within her gained a voice and a name: Ryujin.

It was not until she saw Ranma with Ryujin's eyes that she realised the truth. She was _not_ the only person with a companion. Ranma, this stranger, was similarly gifted.

But Ranma's companion was not a gift. She could now perceive Ryukyu burning within her friend, a dark cancer consuming Ranma from within. Where she felt comfort Ranma felt torment. Where she felt reassurance Ranma felt malevolence. While she was accompanied by Ryujin, Ranma was imprisoned with Ryukyu. She was never alone - Ranma was never anything else.

_Akane. Please - you must not do this. I cannot help you. You cannot stand against Ryukyu's will._

_I'm sorry. I didn't realise it before, but I ... I have to save her. By myself, if I have to._

To even look upon Ryukyu's face was painful. To see that eye, burning and hateful, filled her with such powerful revulsion that she was forced to look away. She could not imagine living with such anguish for more than a moment, let alone a lifetime. Let alone a dozen lifetimes.

She pressed her palms together and gathered her strength, focusing upon pooling her courage and preparing to ignore the warnings inside her mind for the first time in her life. Gritting her teeth, she looked upon Ranma's face again. This time, she would not look away.

The sound of Ryujin's voice sank into nothing, and the everpresent warmth died. She swallowed hard, feeling truly alone for the first time since her awakening. Ryukyu smiled thinly at her. One black talon curled, beckoning her forth. Akane flinched for a moment, realising that Ryukyu could read her, as well. She was alone, she was vulnerable, and Ryukyu knew it.

_Damn it_, she thought. _Too late to worry about it now._

She pulled her hands apart and, forming two fists, tried to move forwards towards Ryukyu. However, her feet would not obey. A sudden panic took her - what was wrong? Why wouldn't her feet move? Was Ryujin holding her back? Daring to look away from Ryukyu for a moment, she glanced down to her feet.

_What the HELL?_

Nine's heart pounded in his chest, the sound seeming to echo within the small sphere of clear air that surrounded him. All around the black smoke hovered. It was a suffocating fog, thick and unyielding; dancing over the rapidly-melting remains of Six-Three. He could feel the fog encroaching upon him, its movement slow but unmistakable. His instincts screamed at him: stay out of the smoke! Stay back!

The pragmatic matter of survival pushed aside the horror that had filled him only moments before. He had to stand up. He had to get out of this smoke, somehow. He did not know how, but it had killed Six-Three. Unless he found a way out, it would do the same to him.

He tried to pull himself upwards, fingers and knuckles protesting loudly as they tried to grip the frozen railing. He grunted, straining his arms against his own weight. His feet scratched back and forth uselessly against the ice-covered metal, the soles of his feet sliding to and fro as his knees flexed in a futile effort to raise his body.

And all the while the smoke circle moved, one edge drawing closer, closer.

_Damn it_, he thought in frustration. _I'm not getting anywhere like this. I've got to--_

A gleam of light among the fog - a pale white glimmer in the fringe of his vision - caught his attention. With curiosity momentarily overwhelming fear, he turned and glanced at the source of the light. At first it was unrecognisable, little more than a faint point of light, but as the smoke ebbed, the source was revealed. Nine's eyes widened.

Six-Three - again. No, he realised, this was not Six-Three. This was another of his brethren. Like Six-Three, the new Hidari was frozen solid. The light Nine had noticed was at last revealed - little more than the reflection of the light overhead by the Hidari's frozen features.

This Hidari, like Six-Three, was falling apart. One arm had fallen away, and the other sported a sizable crack. Behind this new discovery, Nine could see another frozen foot - another Hidari. The smoke rolled slowly onwards, allowing an entire row of frozen faces to emerge from the darkness - silent, still and lifeless.

The stark realisation struck him: _They're all dead - every one of them. But ... why am I still alive?_

Akane strained but her feet would not move, for they were completely encased in thick, solid ice. A thick coating covered the entire elevator platform, and no matter how hard she tried to shift her legs, they could not break free of their anchor.

_She did this_, she realised, looking up at Ryukyu's eye. A manic grin spread across Ryukyu's face, sharp teeth gleaming red under the light of her flaming hair. The smoke began to draw in towards Ranma's body, seeming to grow thicker and darker.

Ryukyu's arm rose, talons curling into a fist. From the smoke another arm, ten times larger, rose in tandem alongside. The smoke bubbled and writhed, held in place by the force of Ryukyu's will. Ryujin's eyes could see the crackling red energy surging along the arm, sustaining its form.

_Gods, it's alive_, Akane realised, staring in gobsmacked horror as Ryukyu's other arm raised, bringing another duplicate with it. She yanked herself upwards, straining against the ice; there was a tiny cracking sound, but her feet did not move.

The giant arms surged forward. Curved talons screamed toward her. The air was ripped in two with lethal force. She couldn't move - she could only duck. The smoke shot over her back; a blast of cold air followed in its wake and slammed into her. She gagged, winded.

The gale died down and she breathed again. A painful breath, oxygen like ice burning her throat. Overhead the colossal arms drew back, two hands clasping together into an enormous fist. She stared, horrified. Her legs burned, muscles straining against the ice.

_Come on ... I've ... _

The hands began to move. The shadow grew larger. The air pressure bore down upon her. A weighty sense of impending doom. And all the while, her muscles strained. Her heart pounded. And her legs began to shift.

_... got to ..._

She screamed, and pushed until - with a deep crack - the ice finally gave way.

_... move!_

She charged forward, pushed by the wake of the fist as it slammed through the platform behind her. In front of her, Ryukyu's arms lowered in perfect synchronisation. As the burning talons sank into the smoke between them, the eye was once again revealed. This time she was not afraid. Drawing her fist back she snarled and flung herself toward it.

Her fist flew. The eye widened. The smoke surrounded her, shutting out all light, all sound. She was alone with the eye, bathed in its horrible light. Fear and thought were abandoned. Instinct alone drove her movement. Closer, and closer, and slower ... and slower ... until she felt the impact.

For a moment, all was perfectly still. The eye's light was gone, and she was alone in the dark. She felt ... warm. A drop of water landed upon her cheek. And another, on her arm. The world exploded into existence around her once more. Ryukyu flew backwards from the force of her punch. All around her the smoke vanished, dissipating in an instant.

Nine felt her presence before he saw her.

Part of his mind perceived the smoke's dissolution. His eyes and ears did at some level notice the vast crowd of frozen Hidari as they began to crumble en masse. But none of that mattered anymore. He could feel something else, something far more important.

A strange feeling struck him, a bizarre hybrid of terror and relief. It was, he realised, an intensely familiar emotion - something he had felt before and yet somehow lost. Now that he felt it again, deep within himself, he wondered how he had ever forgotten. How could he have lost something that felt so much a part of him?

The railing supporting him shook from an impact. His head turned of its own accord, and he caught sight of her. The rest of the world faded into insignificance as he looked upon her face - his face - in wonder. Her eyes were closed, but a tiny smile held fast upon her lips. Across her features a dozen tiny strands of flame were splayed, burning brightly.

"I ... remember you."

One eye, burning a deep shade of red, shot open and fixed him with a glowering gaze. The stare of that eye was like a blow to the head; he recoiled, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. Catching himself mid-fall, he gripped the railing tightly with suddenly-numb hands.

A voice. HER voice.

"He tricked you."

Rock and sky. Water, rock and sky. Tumbling end over end.

"What?"

The rush of air past him. Cold, churning spray upon the air.

"You shouldn't have trusted him. It was all a lie, and you never even suspected."

Falling, falling. A deep, pounding sound far below.

"What are you talking about?"

A strong taste of metal, hot in his mouth.

"You are just a tool to him. He created you because he thought you could stop me. That's the reason you were born."

Ringing in his ears.

"What ... what are you doing?"

The rich smell of the earth.

"He was right. You could have stopped me. But he was too slow. It's my turn now. Now, you belong to me."

The sun was rising into the horizon.

"Stop! Why are you doing this?!"

It vanished. There was blackness, salt, and blood.

"He tricked you, but he didn't - trick - me."

Akane bit her lip, anxiously watching as Ryukyu's limp body fell to the platform, leaving behind a crumpled railing. Ranma landed with a heavy thump, the sound carrying a note of finality. It had certainly been quite a blow - more powerful than she had intended. She wondered for a moment if it was her own anger that drove her hand forward, or if it was the anger of the dragon within her.

_Ryukyu underestimated me. I hit Ranma too hard ..._

She stepped toward the fallen body of her companion, but stopped as something else caught her eye. A person, falling slowly sideways. She gasped as she recognised the figure; a person she had completely forgotten.

Nine stumbled backwards, faintly aware of his body pitching sideways. The dull impact of the railing against his back registered in the back of his mind.

That face - that eye - burned itself irrevocably into his mind. He had seen it before. He did not know where; it was like as from a dream, a vague sense of familiarity amidst a sea of uncertainty. The memory of her was clearer now, even as it was surrounded by confusion. Her face occupied a place in his mind and all around was ... nothing.

That lack of memory was as damning as any memory could be. That demon had stripped something away from him - something dear, even though he could not remember it.

He could hear her voice, speaking echoed words to him, but he could not entirely understand them. The eye burned brightly, silhouetting all else. It was not looking at him but through him, to some distant beyond that he could not perceive. And yet, it was aware of his presence somehow. He could feel its terrible gaze upon him even as it passed through him.

He tumbled helplessly, his arms cartwheeling wildly. He could not see anything to grip amid the darkness, but his arms flailed nonetheless. And then, a blurry light appeared at the edge of his vision. It was white, glowing with a diffuse light that pushed aside the shadows. Within it he could hear a sound. Soft, melodious, gentle upon the air.

"Akane," he whispered, suddenly remembering just where he was, and what was happening. Awareness of his surroundings hit him, a blast of cold water, and his body jolted as if awakening from a haunted dream. The white light now shone brightly upon him, but even as he reveled in its warmth he could feel the icy demon rising nearby. The demon began to move and panic seized his heart, for he perceived the terrors lurking behind that red eye.

"Akane!" he cried, forcing the last of his strength to his throat. "You have to RUN!"

His body fell at last to the platform. As his head struck the frozen metal, light was cast aside by darkness and sleep claimed him.

_I can't run, Nine. I'm sorry. I can't leave either of you with Ryukyu._

Ryukyu slowly rose, shaky legs lifting her weight as both hands gripped the railing for support. Akane tightened her fists. _Damn it, maybe I didn't hit her hard enough._

"Let her go, Ryukyu."

The railing creaked beneath Ryukyu's weight as she slowly rose to her feet, standing shakily for a moment as her support was released. Ryukyu's hair had slipped its bonds and hung to her ankles, a flowing sheet of flame that almost completely obscured her body.

"Let her go," Akane insisted, "or I'll make you let her go."

Her words went unheeded. Ryukyu simply stood still, her shoulders rising and falling with slow breaths. Akane's eyes caught ten burning talons hanging loosely at Ryukyu's sides, but they did not move.

"I ... won't warn you again."

Ryukyu's head rolled lazily to one side, once more bringing the red glow of her eye into view. She looked over her shoulder at Akane, that vicious smile once more spreading across her face.

"Warn me?" she asked through her laughter, words ringing in a deep, booming voice. She turned, facing Akane once again, and folded her arms. "Warn _me_?"

_She can speak!_ Akane thought in amazement, hoping her surprise did not show. Her heart quickened, and despite the cold sweat began to trickle down the back of her neck. Suddenly, she felt very vulnerable.

Ryukyu's gaze remained fixed upon her, that burning eye wide and bright. Suddenly, Ryukyu's body blurred and vanished.

"Ranm--" she began, but her words went unfinished. The gap beneath them was no more. Faster than thought Ryukyu was before her. A clawed fist, moving beyond all imaginable speed, slammed into her chest. A hail of blows slammed into her body, a barrage of attacks so swift that she could not even see them. A sickening snap filled her ears as a fist slammed into her jaw. Her head snapped back as she was sent screaming upwards into the air.

Wind wafted gently by, its touch gentle against her skin. There was light overhead, growing brighter and more intense with every moment. She felt giddy, filled with the lightheaded sensation of flight. It felt strangely relaxing. Her feet dangled far below, not attached to the earth, and she wondered for a moment if she was lying in water.

A starburst of pain detonated inside her head, and her mouth was suddenly full of blood. She cried out and her voice was soaked in it, the thick liquid spurting from her opened lips. Her eyes, filled with tears, snapped open. She tried to move, but her body would not obey. Suddenly her weight shifted, and as her body reached the apex of its trajectory, realisation struck. Her body turned as it began to fall, and her eyes showed her a blurry shape far below. The platform, she realised. She could see the bright red light of Ryukyu's hair still burning.

She could move at a speed no human could ever hope to match, and yet she could not even see Ryukyu's movements. Her fall became a plunge, and once more the air whipped past her face. Her eyes narrowed, dried by the force of the gale. A creeping fear took hold as she realised just how high she had been hit, and how much strength lurked within her opponent.

_I was careless_, she told herself. _This fall is going to kill me. After that punch I should already be dead._

She could see that red eye watching her still. Ranma's beautiful blue eyes still existed; pale and blind behind the burning malice of Ryukyu's. Frustration welled within her - Ranma was still alive, still in need of her help, but she was not strong enough. She tried to scream, but her mouth was once more full of blood.

_She's going to kill us both - Ryujin, help me!_

She felt nothing, only the same cold emptiness that had been there before. In her despair Akane closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, only to be torn away by the frozen wind. She coughed another mouthful of blood, wincing at the burning pain in her chest.

_I can't leave without her. I can't run away. Please, Ryujin. Please ... help me!_

The elevator platform gave a deep metallic groan as it juddered downwards, weighed down by the ice. Its screech was the only sound in the air as Akane's body tumbled silently downward. Ryukyu stood perfectly still, unperturbed by the platform's slip. She folded her arms and watched closely as Akane began to fall from the very top of the elevator shaft.

"You aren't going to stand by and let me kill her, are you?" she whispered.

As if in response, the platform beneath her feet began to shake. Sparing a glance downward, she saw the ice around her was cracking; bubbles were forming, and liquid was beginning to flow.

"That's more like it," she said, her lips curling in glee. "But surely you can do better."

She clenched her fists and from beneath her palms gouts of flame sprang forth, balling within her hands. The fire spread across her skin, climbing up along her forearms. Looking up once more at Akane, she spoke again.

"Is that all she means to you? I suppose I'll have to kill her."

The shaking spread - suddenly it was not just the platform that was moving, but the entire elevator shaft. Hundreds of tiny icicles, dislodged from their homes, tumbled down and smashed into the platform. A low rumble filled the air, rising like the tide. And as the vibrations grew more violent, Ryukyu remained still.

Suddenly, the large water pipe screeched; the sound of metal twisting, being forced aside. The pipe ruptured and from within it burst forth a tremendous torrent of water, a powerful blast that shot upwards and ripped through the ceiling far above. A tiny hint of sunlight shone through the hole, illuminating the darkness below.

Once breached the pipe quickly gave way completely, a deep crack spreading along its length to allow water to burst free. Sheets of rain filled the air, masking Akane's descent in a hazy fog of water. Hundreds of tiny droplets fell around Ryukyu. She ignored them, staring up at a dim light that was emerging from the water far above.

"At last," she said with delight, "we can begin."

Akane's eyes shot wide open and a gasp flew from blood soaked lips as suddenly she was not alone. All around her a cascade flowed, a million tiny lives in a million tiny drops of water. The drops were still, and she was falling gently between them.

Before her the droplets began to merge, joining together as one. A sphere of water formed and grew and from it emerged a face. The water solidified as it continued to grow, and within moments had formed a body; the body of an elfin girl clad in robes like her own.

"You're ... Ryujin," Akane whispered, staring in wonder. The girl's face was like her own, but where she had hair this girl had long, flowing tresses of water that shone a bright shade of blue. Akane instinctively held forth her hand and the girl met it with her own, the touch of her skin soft and warm. "You look just like me."

"I do not want to fight, Akane, but I will protect you," spoke Ryujin. She smiled and squeezed Akane's hand. "I will not let you die."

Ryujin's words danced like the light, but this dance was within her mind. She could feel the power surging within her now - a flood swelling, awaiting its release. The pain was taken from her body and the taste of blood was forgotten. Sunlight from overhead danced within the mist, a dazzling array of colour coruscating all around her.

"I want to save her," Akane said, meeting Ryujin's eyes with her own. "She's ... important to me."

Ryujin squeezed her hand again, and from behind the girl's back emerged two bright feathered wings, as large as the girl herself. They spread wide and caught upon the air, slowing her descent. Akane fell forward into her arms.

Akane looked below and saw Ryukyu waiting, her crimson eye reflected a thousand times over in the rain. A thousand eyes seeing into her; seeing Ryujin; seeing even what Akane herself could not see. Behind that eye was a smile.

"I know," Ryujin whispered. "Close your eyes. Let go of your body and the water will take you to her."

Akane did as she was asked, and immediately felt lighter, smaller, as though she was shrinking. The air swept up around her, through her, spreading her body wide with its flow.

Ryukyu watched intently as Akane's body began to glow. Bright blue flames spread and grew, flames made not of fire but of water. The water droplets all around her were pulled toward her, merging with the mass of water as it grew around Akane. There was a sudden flash; Ryukyu's hand shot upwards to shield her eye from the dazzling light.

And then, at last, the pipe's water came crashing into the platform. There was a loud thump as Akane's body slammed into the metal and the ground itself shook under the force of the impact.

"So, you've finally come out of hiding. You have my gratitude for that punch - I was a little out of control," she said. Lowering her hand, she looked toward the impact site. There was nothing there, save for a small puddle amid the ice. A tiny laugh escaped her. "Only you could ever hit me that hard."

"What do you want?"

Ryukyu turned at the sound. Behind her, the water was coalescing into a body. Her gaze hardened. "You already know what I want."

The water solidified into the form of Ryujin. Two shimmering blue eyes were framed by a scowl, which was in turn framed by brightly glowing locks of water. Ryujin spoke again, and her voice carried the depth of the sea. "You know I won't give it to you."

"Don't be a fool," Ryukyu said with a sneer. "I control this body now. You _know_ what I am capable of."

Ryujin shook her head. "Even if I wanted to give it to you, I can't. You've known that from the very beginning."

"I think you're wrong," Ryukyu countered. "I think you can give me what I need. It's simply a matter of ... motivation."

Ryukyu's hand, still dripping fire, flew forward and snatched Ryujin's neck. The other was raised slowly, tenderly, to cup her cheek. Ryujin quivered beneath the sudden contact, but did not back down.

"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered defiantly, even as the warmth seeped from her skin. The trembling of her body betrayed the fear hidden behind her eyes.

"Perhaps that is true, but I can see Akane within you, my love," Ryukyu whispered, fixing her eye upon Ryujin's. "I can see her fear. She is terrified. It is a strange curse we have, the ability to see into the very hearts of humans, but it is sometimes useful."

"It's a gift, not a curse," Ryujin replied faintly, held still by Ryukyu's touch. "You never realised - it was supposed to help us understand them."

"Oh, I know what it was supposed to do. You can lecture me about what it was _supposed_ to do, but you don't share my perspective. You see them in life; I see them in death. You hear their hopes and dreams. I witness only their regrets and sorrow," Ryukyu said, drawing her face near. "To see their precious hopes die as they finally grasp the futility of their own existence - it is a torment that lends a certain clarity. It's curious that Akane understands this and you do not."

"Akane understands because she is human. She has seen death," Ryujin replied, wincing as Ryukyu's fingertips danced across her soft white skin. Burning talons lightly teased her cheek, a gasp slipping between her lips as Ryukyu stroked her thumb across them.

"I seeeeeee," Ryukyu said, her grip tightening. Talons pierced skin; tiny rivulets of warm water seeped from beneath the surface and ran down Ryujin's neck. At the same time she drew her face closer until their noses touched. "Then let me show you something."

Ryujin's body tensed. "What?"

"You know, when I think of you I am torn. I love you, and I hate you. I detest you, and yet I desire you. I know you feel the same. You want me, even though you are my enemy. I can sense your desire," Ryukyu whispered, the gaze of her burning eye piercing deep.

Ryujin shivered in Ryukyu's grasp and yet her arms slowly slid around the demon's waist even as tears streamed down her face. She nodded, a choked sob her only reply.

Ryukyu smiled. "As a token of my love, I want to share a small part of myself with you, so that - if nothing else - you can at least begin to understand me. You want to understand, don't you?"

"I ... I ...," Ryujin stammered, held enraptured by Ryukyu's stare.

"Good," Ryukyu said with a smile. She leaned in closer still, pressing her forehead to Ryujin's. She spoke again, and her cold breath swept over Ryujin's lips with her words. "This is for Akane, too."

Ryujin realised too late to retreat. Ryukyu's other eye flew wide open, revealing a bright blue iris.

"This is Ranma's eye," Ryukyu whispered. The blue eye darted back and forth in its socket, and from its look alone Ryujin was filled with terror. She cried out and tried to pull away, but Ryukyu's hold was firm.

"She does not share her existence as Akane does with you. She is still fighting me with what remains of her strength. She knows that if she relents, I will consume her. Can you feel her pain, her horror? She is surrounded by my darkness. There is no way out."

"No ... no," Ryujin whimpered, unable to look away. Tears flooded her wide eyes.

"She is filled with hate, and anger, and despair. Slowly but surely, it is suffocating her. It has been suffocating her for almost nine hundred years."

"Stop it! Please ... _stop_!"

"I have no desire to harm her, but I cannot deny my nature," Ryukyu continued, her velvety voice wrapping around Ryujin. "She has been dying for nine hundred years, but death will not take her. The one thing she desires is the one thing she can not have. She cannot die because she is not alive."

Ryujin struggled, frantically trying to escape the yearning stare of Ranma's eye. It penetrated her, mournful misery that wounded her like a sharpened blade. She begged in a pathetic whimper, "Let me go ... let me go."

"Her suffering is my suffering. I have lived for an eternity in this darkness. Now you understand just what my existence is. Now Akane has seen the truth that Ranma was afraid to show her."

Suddenly, Ryukyu's grip was released. Ryujin slumped helplessly to the floor, her body racked with sobs. Slowly Ranma's eye grew dim. The eyelid fell closed and only Ryukyu's burning iris remained.

"Ranma desires the same thing as I. Exodus."

"I cannot kill you!" Ryujin screeched through her tears. "I can only create life!"

"Perhaps you cannot give me what I desire," Ryukyu conceded, her tone nonchalant. She bent at the waist and brought her glowering eye to bear. "But Akane can."

Ryujin began to scream.

"You understand now, don't you?"

All around Akane, the protection of unconsciousness was crumbling. She could feel Ryujin's shock and anguish as her own. The veil of her protector was lifted, and the world was brought into sharp focus. She was awake and kneeling at Ryukyu's feet. The question rang clearly in her ears. Nausea stabbed at her, needles in her gut.

"Ranma waited nine hundred years for you. Not for any of your ancestors, not for Ryujin, but for _you_. It is you and you alone who can kill us. Your will and Ryujin's strength combined can give us what we have waited an eternity for."

"No," Akane whispered, her own tears mixing with Ryujin's upon her cheek. "That's not true. That can't be true."

"Is that so?" Ryukyu asked, amused.

"Ranma protected me from the hunters because--"

"Because?" Ryukyu prodded. "Did she ever say why? Did she ever explain just why she was dragging you around Japan?"

Akane stammered helplessly, searching for words but failing to find them. She stared up at that terrible eye, unable to move, unable to think.

"The world is not as you think, Akane. Your 'protector' does not protect you, and your 'hunters' do not hunt you. There have been more than a few opportunities for the Hidari to kill you. Didn't you ever wonder why they didn't?" Ryukyu asked. "The Hidari have never tried to kill you. They want to take you from me, from Ranma, because they fear what will happen to them when you kill me."

"No, that ... that ..." Akane began, but the words caught in her throat. Memories long buried began to resurface and intertwine, scattered images weaving the fabric of her epiphany. She saw again the first Hidari she had met, who tried to take her from Ranma, only to be killed. She saw the two Hidari who had welcomed her to the Leviathan Spring. They had not threatened her. They had not attacked her. They had not harmed her. None of them had.

All sensation left her. She toppled backwards, a lifeless body, an empty shell. She had lost her way, her only point of reference; the base assumption that had guided her since she met Ranma. The thump of the floor upon her backside registered dully in her dizzied mind.

"Yes, Akane," Ryukyu said. Her smile grew wide. "Your ancestors were not killed by any 'hunters'. I killed them. Pruning the tree, so to speak. Weeding out the weak, so that you - the strong one - could emerge."

"That - that's a lie," she fumed, her entire body shaking. "You're ... just trying to make me angry."

"Perhaps," Ryukyu admitted with a shrug.

"Let me tell you something about death, Akane. The final moment before a person dies is the most telling. In that moment there is one vital realisation: there is no redemption, no way to escape. Death will not be denied. Once that simple fact is accepted at the most instinctive level, all ties to the world are severed. It is only once the burden of hope has been cast aside that the soul can transcend the body and journey to the Otherworld in peace. That moment is the Exodus.

"Not all achieve it. Many fail to understand, and so fade into oblivion. How a person arrives at the Exodus, and whether they arrive at all, is the true measure of that person's worth."

"Why are you tell--"

"You've never seen a human die the way I have," Ryukyu interrupted. She ran a single talon over Akane's lips, silencing her. The talon ran slowly from her chin down her throat. "I made Ranma watch closely when I cut your mother here. She tries to pretend that it didn't happen, of course. I suppose that is her way of staying sane. But in her heart she knows. She watched me kill your mother.

"With the others before her, I spared Ranma the ... details. But your mother was different. You must understand, I did not force Ranma to watch out of cruelty or malice. It was not the blood I wanted her to see. I wanted her to see your mother's Exodus. I wanted her to see that no matter how tortured the soul, at the end there could be peace.

"Ranma has seen millions of deaths over the course of her life, but the Exodus is the one part I did not let her see. After nine hundred years of living through the pain of death, I wanted her to see it; a moment of absolute peace. I wanted her to know what she could have. Your mother was a perfect demonstration. Her Exodus was ... beautiful."

There was feeling again. Deep within the pit of herself, Akane felt a fire begin to burn, kindled by the betrayal she felt. It blazed within her, and filled her with a sudden resolve.

"Don't fight your anger. Use it. Give me my Exodus and I'll give you your revenge."

"You ... killed my mother for a ... demonstration?" Akane whispered, her voice straining. She forced her eyes closed and shrank into stillness; utter, blazing, apoplectic stillness. Tears of anger poured over her skin. Spittle flew between gritted teeth the wordless grunts of an inexpressible rage leapt from her throat.

Ryukyu notched an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "So, what will you do?"

A fey smile touched Akane's face, and then it was gone. She screamed, roaring with the primitive fury of an animal, and flung herself at Ryukyu. Her hands flew, tearing wildly at Ryukyu's throat.

"YOU KILLED HER! I'LL RIP YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!"

**T E N**


End file.
